The Gateway
by Sith Happens
Summary: The MacManus Twins have left the East Coast and moved inland. At a concert in St. Louis, they meet an example of why they began their mission. But even in light times, evil looms around the corner. MurphxOC heavy, maybe ConnxOC if you ask nicely!
1. Chapter 1

The MacManus brothers had decided to take their business inland a ways, seeing as the police in the major New England cities were all on the look-out for the Saints. Da had decided to stay behind for awhile, until he felt it was safe enough for him to leave as well. The brothers were in Chicago for a while, took out a couple of the local mobsters as well as some drug dealers and thieves that had showed up along the way. To their surprise, these Midwestern criminals were actually pretty sharp. The brothers half expected them to be slower and not as quick-witted as the criminals in Boston and New York. But they were given a run for their money, so to speak.

They were preparing to leave Chicago, not sure where to go next, only knowing that it was time to pack up and go. Murphy was on his way home from the store with cigarettes, beer, and bread when he heard a song he liked on the radio. It was "Drunken Lullabies" by Flogging Molly, an Irish rock band. He nodded his head along with the beat, singing along and tapping his hands on the steering wheel. When the song was over, the radio announcer came on.

"That was 'Drunken Lullabies' by Flogging Molly," he informed with great cheer. "For those of you who didn't know, they'll be making an appearance at the Pops club in East St. Louis February 6th. I know it's a long drive from here, but should be well-worth it for the fans. Next up, we have some Finger Eleven with…"

By this time, Murphy had turned off the radio because he had reached their apartment. He parked the car around back so that it wouldn't be visible from the street. Hopping out, he grabbed the bag of groceries and headed upstairs. An idea struck him as he opened the door to the dingy apartment and saw his brother sitting at the table, cleaning their guns.

"St. Louis," he blurted out with a grin.

Connor looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. "The fuck're ye goin' on about?"

"We should go ta St. Louis next, Conn," he answered, plopping the bag on the small counter because he had forgotten about the bread. "I heard on the news that they've surpassed even New York in the number a murders this year."

Connor shook his head and wiped the barrel of one of the guns with a clean rag. Murphy was undeterred by his brother's lack of enthusiasm. "Plus, the city's known fer bein' the biggest hub for drug trade in the country 'cause it's smack in the middle."

"Why d'ye really want ta go there, Murph," Connor asked, knowing his brother better than that.

Murphy rolled his eyes. He should have known better than to think he could pull one over on his brother. It hadn't worked in 28 years, why would it start working now. "Floggin' Molly'll be playin' in East St. Louis in a couple days."

"Ah," Connor nodded, smiling just a little. "Alright. St. Louis it is, then."

Murphy gave a triumphant hoot and pounced on his brother. "Ye won't regret it, Conn. We're goin' ta get drunk an' listen ta good ole Irish rock! Can't beat a night like that."

"Aye, but ye know I don't like Floggin' Molly as much as ye," Connor nodded. "I prefer Dropkick Murphy."

Murphy scoffed at his brother for two reasons; one, Flogging Molly was better and Connor knew that, and two, Connor only said he liked Dropkick Murphy better because that's exactly what he always wanted to do: drop-kick Murphy.

"Ye're a fuckwit, ye know that," Murphy retorted, ruffling his brother's hair.

"Aye," Connor nodded, smiling as his brother sat down with two beers and started helping with the guns. "But ye know ye love me."

"Doesn't mean I have ta like ye all the time," he rolled his eyes, but smiled as well while he popped open the beer can and picked up another rag.

---

It took four hours for them to reach St. Louis after leaving Chicago. They stopped near the middle to exchange places so that it was Murphy who drove into East St. Louis and got the famous skyline of the Gateway Arch and the old City Hall building. He was rather impressed with it and reached over to nudge a sleeping Connor awake to see it.

"Conn, get the fuck up," he hissed, keeping an eye on the highway.

Connor blinked a few times before sitting up, wiping the sleep from his eyes. "What? What is it?"

"Take a look at tha'," Murphy replied, pointing out the window to the view.

Connor leaned forward so he could see everything and gave a low whistle. "Well, ain't that a sight?"

The sun was setting on that uncommonly clear February afternoon, leaving the sky behind the city of St. Louis in a pinkish fire before night could swallow it entirely. It was approaching six o'clock, just an hour before the show was supposed to start. Murphy had checked online at the public library in Chicago and found out that Pops, the club Flogging Molly would be playing at, sold tickets at the door for $22. He hoped they wouldn't get there too late only to find the show sold-out.

East St. Louis Illinois, which was across the Mississippi River from the city, was not the cleanest place the twins had ever been to. It reminded Murphy strongly of Southie, with the run down homes and suspicious looking people walking down the street. It might have looked scary had the brothers never been exposed to the seedier side of living. They found a dingy-around-the-edges hotel to stay in for the night, paying for the room and asking for directions to the club.

It seemed the Pops was in a little bubble of its own in East St. Louis. Unlike the rest of the city, this particular spot looked clean and well-kept. The parking lot was packed, so they were forced to park quite a ways down the block and walk back to the door. Murphy was glad to find that they had not sold-out, although it seemed very close. They were herded inside with the rest of the crowd, only to be stopped at the door by a man asking to see ID.

"You drinking tonight," the big man asked the guy and girl in front of the brothers.

"Yeah," the shaggy haired, stubble-chinned young man answered.

"See some ID," the bouncer replied, folding his arms in front of his chest.

Both reached into their pockets and pulled out driver's licenses. The bouncer looked at the guy's and gave a derisive snort and grabbed his wrist, picking up a marker and leaving a bright red slash on the back of the guy's hand. The kid grumbled and walked further into the place, but not too far as the girl moved up to the bouncer.

He skimmed over her ID and gave a small smile. "Turned twenty-one on February 2nd, huh?"

"Yeah," the long-haired, brunette girl said shyly, giving a slight nod.

"Well, happy birthday," the man chuckled. "Four days late, of course."

She walked off to meet up with the guy as Murphy and Connor stepped up. The bouncer took one look at them and waved them in without even checking. Their first stop was the bar, where they grabbed a bottle of Guinness each and headed out toward the rest of the crowd. There were a few tables set up in various places, but the club was mostly a stage and a large open area where people stood crowded together, trying to get closer to the band.

"Fuckin' mosh pits," Connor grumbled, shaking his head. "These kids're goin' ta kill each other when they get ta jumpin' 'round like idiots."

"Aye," Murphy laughed. "That's why we stand in the back and enjoy the music from the speakers."

He pointed upwards where the large black boxes loomed over them. Connor smiled and clapped a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Then we might just survive this, Murph."

About that time, the band started to walk out onto the stage, the crowd raising a loud cheer. They started warming up, and several people left the crowd to go to the bar during the wait. One of them was a young man with blue-back hair that made a bee-line toward Connor and Murphy, ploughing right between them with no pause and no apology. To keep from being knocked down, Murphy side-stepped quickly and bumped into someone.

"Right bastard," he grumbled after the guy then turned to see who he had run into. It was the brunette from the line, the apparent birthday-girl. Some of his beer had sloshed onto the side of her face and on her green Guinness t-shirt as she stood there looking stunned, wiping at her face. Murphy's eyes widened. "Christ, I'm sorry, lass."

She turned to her face to look up at him, one dark brown eye still closed from the beer that was dripping from her hair. He looked around to see if he saw any napkins, but there was no place close enough. The girl licked her lips and started laughing.

"Man," she giggled. "That is not how I imagined tasting beer for the first time."

"Ye sure ye're alright," Murphy asked, touching her shoulder absently.

"Yeah," she nodded glancing up at his face before she blushed and looked away.

"Murph," Connor asked from behind him. "The fuck're ye doin'?"

Murphy turned around to look at his brother. "I bumped into this lass…"

He turned back to say something to the girl, but she had already walked away, still wiping at her face a little.

"What lass," Connor said, coming up next to him and following his gaze.

"Nothin'," Murphy shook his head and turned his attention back to the stage as he rejoined his brother.

**A/N: Well, I hope everyone enjoyed the first chapter! Please review and let me know how it's going. I've left the genre as General until I decide which way I'm going with the story. So, I need your help. Should Sithy do more romance, or are her reader's wanting something else? Let me know what you think and I'll take it into consideration before I make a final decision.**

**Thanks! -Love, Sithy**

**PS - All the major places that are going to be mentioned in the story are there in real life, so if you ever go to St. Louis, you can check them out ;)**


	2. Dancing Queen

-1The band had started up and the twins were singing along as loud as they could, beers raised in the air as they enjoyed themselves and the music. On a break between songs, Murphy went back to the bar to get two more bottles of Guinness. There was a crowd around the bar, and he was jostled excessively, but it wasn't anything new to him. With beers in hand, he started on the trek back to Connor, dodging a few people, one of them being the blue-black haired boy again. He made it to the less populated space between the crowd at the bar and the crowd at the stage, a very small strip that was mostly just him and Connor and a few people that were running back and forth between the two crowds.

He handed a bottle to Connor, who smiled appreciatively before turning his attention back to the stage and the band who had shown back up. Murphy was taking a swig from his bottle, eyes glancing around when they fell on that brunette again. She was sitting at one of the few tables all by herself, looking extremely lonely. The guy she had come in with was no where to be seen. Her eyes were glued onto her bottle of beer before they glanced up at the stage.

"Oi, Conn," Murphy said, back-handing Connor in the chest to get his attention.

"What," he replied, sounding slightly annoyed as he turned.

"That lass over there," Murphy said, pointing to the brunette. "That's the one what I knocked inta earlier."

"Aye, so," Connor asked.

Murphy shook his head. "Doesn't look like she's havin' a very good time."

"Ah, let 'er get a few more drinks in 'er," Connor chuckled, waving off the remark. "Then she'll probably be jumpin' 'round like all these other little bastards."

As if on cue, a guy came out of the mosh pit holding onto his bleeding nose. The brothers chuckled as the poor guy brushed past them toward the restrooms. Murphy thought it was ridiculous the way the crowd was bouncing around chaotically to music that had such a simple beat. So he turned to Connor, and with that special connection he had read all twins are supposed to have, hooked an arm with his brother and started up a nice Irish jig. Connor went along with it merrily, both men keeping in time with the music. Murphy did a turn and saw the brunette watching him from her seat. With a smile, he waved her over to join them. Her eyes widened and she shook her head vehemently.

"Be right back, Conn," Murphy laughed. "Find yerself a lass at dance with."

Connor nodded with a grin and paused his jig to search the crowd briefly for a dance partner. Murphy went over to the girl at the table only to find her still wide-eyed and blushing.

"Listen, I'm very sorry 'bout spillin' me drink on ye earlier," he said, trying to make the sincerity heard over the music and the crowd. "By way a apology, I'd like ye ta come dance with me an' me brother."

"I don't even know you guys," she shook her head slightly, sounding guarded despite her gentle smirk.

"Well, we can change that, can't we," Murphy's smile broadened, holding a hand out to her. "I'm Murphy, me brother's name is Connor. Pleased ta meet ye."

She blushed again, looking from his eyes to his hand before taking it with the slightest bit of hesitation. "I'm Fey."

"Fey," he mused, shaking her hand a little. "Now, would ye do me the honour a dancing' with me?"

"I suppose," she nodded, still blushing badly as he pulled her out of her chair.

Holding her hand, Murphy walked her over to where Connor had found a cute little blonde wearing a black tank top and an extremely short skirt. He shook his head in amused disbelief at his brother's choice. The girl was almost rail-thin, looked like she might break if you touched her just wrong. The brunette, Fey, at least had some meat on her bones, fine curves too, of course, Murphy wouldn't admit to looking.

"I might a guessed," Conn chuckled when he saw Murphy coming closer.

Murph ignored him, stopping Fey right next to him as he smirked at Connor. "Ye ready ta show these girls how ta dance, Conn?"

"Aye," Connor laughed out loud as the band started up again.

They both began a jig, moving in near perfect synchronicity. After a moment, Murphy heard a sweet round of giggling and paused when he realized it was Fey.

"Now I know you're Irish for sure," she spoke through her fingers, trying to hide her smile.

"Ye weren't sure before," he grinned.

"Anyone can fake an accent," she replied. "No one can fake a real Irish jig."

"Ye been 'round many Irishmen," he asked, picking back up in his dancing as he looked at her.

She smirked knowingly, raising an eyebrow as she fell in beside him. Her eyes turned down to his feet, brows furrowed in concentration. Fey began moving her feet a little, trying to mirror Murphy. After a few moments, she jumped in on a hard step, clapping her hands and joining the brothers. Murphy was impressed with her ability to keep up and couldn't help but smile as she seemed to be enjoying herself. He glanced over at Connor and his partner. The blonde was having a terrible time learning the steps, and Connor just broke down into shuffling around with her, which he didn't seem to mind.

"An look at those two in tha back," the lead singer of the band suddenly spoke into the microphone, laughing.

Murphy watched Fey's face become a mask of horror as everyone turned to look at them. Her feet slowed, almost stopping as she stared wide-eyed at the band.

"Come on, lass, don' get frightened," the singer chuckled. "We'll keep playin' if ye keep dancin'."

Fey looked like she was going to keel over dead from embarrassment, and Murphy definitely did not want to see that. He grabbed her hand and gave her a spin, bringing her up close to him as he placed a hand on the small of her back.

"Keep yer eyes on me, lass," he smirked. "If they want a show, we'll give it ta 'em."

She looked completely mortified, but she nodded and put her hand on his shoulder as he started up dancing again. The crowd cheered them on, the band playing harder while they bounced and spun to the beat. By the time the band had finished playing, Murphy had Fey laughing and enjoying herself again. When the music stopped, everyone applauded them and the band.

Murphy raised his arms in a triumphant woot, Connor coming over and giving him a thwack to the chest to deflate him a little. "Some mighty fancy foot work there, Murph. Ain't seen ye dance that good since we were kids."

Murphy smiled smugly at Fey. "Well, Fey here's a better partner than ye."

Fey blushed and it made both brothers laugh before Connor extended his hand to the girl. "Apologize fer me brother. He's got no real manners. Name's Connor."

"Oi, I got manners plenty," Murphy protested, shoving his brother, but Connor didn't seem to care.

"I'm Fey," the brunette blushed more.

"Where'd yer blonde go, Conn," Murphy asked with a smirk.

"Back at 'er boyfriend, I suppose," Connor winked at Fey.

Murphy shook his head with a grin, looking at the girl. "Suppose ye'll be needin' ta get back ta yers as well."

Fey looked at him confused for a moment then covered her mouth with her fingers as she started to laugh. "You mean Robbie? He's not my boyfriend. Just a friend I've had for a while that I made take me out for my birthday."

"Ah, happy birthday ta ye then," Connor smiled, taking a drink from his bottle.

"Yep, officially 21," Fey nodded, then started looking nervous again. "Well, I guess I'll head back to the table then. I don't know where Robbie got off to."

Murphy glanced at a smirking Connor before saying "Can I buy ye a drink then, Fey? Fer yer birthday?"

She bit her bottom lip as she looked between the two of them and was about to say something when the guy she had come in with, Robbie, came out of the crowd toward them.

"Wow, Fey," Robbie smiled. "That was awesome!"

"Robbie, where have you been," Fey asked, looking slightly upset. "You left me all by myself."

"I'm sorry, Fey," he apologized. "I just wanted to do some moshing. Didn't think you'd get so uptight about it."

Fey sighed and looked at the floor. Murphy decided he didn't like this Robbie fellow very much. He swung an arm across Fey's shoulder and fixed Robbie with a bit of a glare. "It's not bein' uptight when ye're lonely. C'mon, lass, me brother an' I'll buy ye a drink an' keep ye company."

She glanced up at Murphy's face then looked up at Robbie. "Go mosh, Robbie. I'll chill out back here with my new buddies."

Robbie just shrugged before heading back to the crowd of people. Fey's eyes turned up to Murphy's for a second before falling to his chest shyly. "Thanks."

"No need ta thanks me," Murphy shook his head with a smirk. "I'm sure there's plenty a boys here who'd like ta keep ye company. Just asked first."

She chuckled gently which made Murphy's smile broaden. "C'mon, Conn. Let's escort the lass back at 'er table."

"There in a minute," Connor replied, giving his brother a smirk as the band started it's next song.


	3. Tipsy

Murphy found himself staring at Fey's face as they sat at the table with the crowd cheering around them. Connor had gone off to smoke a cigarette outside because there was no smoking in the club, leaving the two of them alone for a while. She seemed so very shy, never meeting his gaze for more than a few seconds before looking away. He had to admit that he liked looking at her face. Her eyes were bright, cheeks a bit round, and lips full and soft-looking. Murphy also enjoyed the fact that her front teeth seemed just a little too big for her and caused her lips to remain slightly parted most of the time. It was all around sweet wholesomeness that he found to be a welcome respite from the usual corruption and filth he was so used to dealing with. And he knew he was a bit tipsy when he realized just how much he wanted to kiss those lips.

"Murphy," she said, brow furrowed in concern.

He blinked a time or two, realizing that she had been saying something to him and that he was now required to supply a response. "Aye?"

She smiled gently before turning her eyes back to his neck. "Is that supposed to be the Virgin Mary tattooed on your neck?"

"Aye," he nodded with a smirk. Apparently she had been looking at him for awhile as well.

"And your hand there," she continued. "Aequi… Aequitas. It means…"

Fey paused for a moment, and Murphy smiled when she closed her eyes in concentration. He was about to answer her when her eyes flew open and she smiled triumphantly. "Equality or justice."

"Very good," he chuckled, taking a sip of his beer. "I'd give ye a gold star, but I'm fresh out."

"Bet you get a lot of women with that Irish-Catholic charm of yours," she chuckled slightly, shaking her head.

Murphy looked positively smug as he leaned in to reply "Why? Is it workin' on ye?"

She raised an eyebrow at him, still smirking, and the smugness drained from his face. "Murphy, you'd have to get up pretty damn early in the morning to win me over with a few beers and dancing. I know Irishmen, especially Catholic ones, and I am not suckered in by all that charm."

Murphy would have been slightly offended, except that she was smiling the whole time and he just couldn't be offended by a face as sweet as that. Instead, he faked it, putting a hand over his heart and replying dramatically "Ye wound me, lass. An' here I thought I was makin' a good impression on ye."

He was rewarded with a giggle as Fey looked back down at his hands. She reached over and tapped the Latin word with one gentle finger. "You know, they say justice is blind."

"Aye," he responded, cocking his head to one side in confusion.

"No wonder you've been hanging around me all night," she smirked.

Murphy shook his head with a chuckle, leaning his face down to look into his bottle before putting it to his lips and drinking the rest of it down. He glanced back over at her as she kept nursing at her own bottle. "Trust me, sweetheart, even if I were blind, tha' sweet voice a yers would have me at yer side in a heartbeat."

Fey's cheeks flamed red and he was extremely proud of himself for it. He ran his finger across his bottom lip, feeling the need for a cigarette suddenly. Connor hadn't come back to the table, and he was wary of leaving Fey all by herself.

"Would ye come outside with me," he asked, trying to make it sound as innocent as possible. "I really need ta have a smoke."

"No," Fey shook her head gently, barely looking up at him.

Slightly disappointed, Murphy stood. "An' why not?"

"I don't know you that well, Murphy," she replied, taking another drink. "You could still be a serial killer or something, no matter how nice you are."

Murphy chuckled gently, leaning down and pressing his lips to her cheek. He could feel the heat coming off her skin as she gave a strangled cry of surprise. Straightening up and ignoring the look she gave him, he smiled. "Ye're a right cautious lass, Fey. I'll be back in a few."

"Okay," she smiled shyly before looking back down at her bottle, and Murphy thought it was so cute he almost didn't leave. But the need for nicotine won out and he pulled himself away toward the door. On his way out, he saw Connor leaning against the wall near the bar.

"Where ye been, Conn," Murphy asked, shaking his head.

"Been lettin' ye get acquainted with yer new girl," Connor chuckled

"Ah, fuck ye," Murphy waved off the comment taking out his pack of cigarettes and pulling a single one from the pack with his lips.

Connor just smiled knowingly at him, then in a sing-song voice "Murphy's got a girlfriend."

"The fuck are ye? Ten," Murphy asked, trying to hide his smile.

"Ye go enjoy yer cigarette," Connor tilted his head toward the door with a smug expression. "I'll keep a watch on yer lass from 'ere."

"Why don't ye go keep the poor girl company, Conn," Murphy asked, searching his pockets for his lighter.

"Wouldn't want 'er at fall all over me while ye're out," Connor replied. "I can tell how much ye like 'er already."

Murphy shook his head again, grumbling under his breath as he walked out the door. It was freezing outside, the bitterly cold February night making his breath fog before he even lit the cigarette. Wrapping his pea coat tighter, he leaned back against the brick wall away from the small group of what looked like kids gathered under a lamppost, also smoking. He had an idea to go over and tell them to quit while they still had decent lungs, but he knew from experience it would just fall on deaf ears. And he wondered absently if Fey smoked.

Of course she didn't. Otherwise she would have been out there with everyone else. Murphy was sure that she was the epitome of wholesomeness and sweetness and a whole slew of other goodness that he couldn't quite think of in his freezing, drink-addled mind. And he couldn't even begrudge Connor for teasing him about her. She was exactly the type of respite they both needed on occasion from the harsh reality of what their lives had become. It was the type of thing both brothers knew they should grab up as soon as the chance arose, even if it was for only a few passing moments. And for what Murphy knew of her, this Fey was a shining example of the reason why this whole mission of theirs began.

"So that which is good may flourish," he whispered into the darkness, the back of his thumbnail rubbing his lower lip absently as he looked up in the sky.

A few specks of white started to appear against the black sky; the beginnings of a snow flurry. A gift of beauty from God that without warning could turn into disaster. The symbolism made Murphy shiver as much as the cold. He was pulled from his reverie by the sounds of two of the kids scuffling beneath the lamppost. Taking another drag from his cigarette, he was about to go break them up when the door next to him flew open and Connor came out.

"Get in 'ere, Murph," he said, looking concerned. "Yer lass is about ta have fits."

Somewhat worried, Murphy quickly flicked his cigarette away and followed Connor inside, not even bothering to correct him. Once among the crowd of people, Connor motioned in the direction of the restrooms and both men made their way through the crowd. Breaking through, Murphy could see Fey standing close to a figure sitting on the floor against the wall. He realized it was the guy she had come in with, Robbie, and Fey seemed near to tears.

"How could you, Robbie," she whimpered, shaking her head.

"What's the…" Robbie slurred, waving his hand at her. 'What's the big deal, Fey?"

"The big deal is that you're flat-out wasted, Robbie," she replied. "How am I supposed to get home?"

Robbie closed his eyes, looking nauseous. "You can… you can drive my truck?"

"No I can't," she shook her head. "You're trucks a manual. I can't drive that."

"What's goin' on," Murphy asked as he came over to stand beside Fey.

She gave a frustrated sigh and motioned to Robbie weakly with her hand. "Jackass here got plastered after I told him not to. He's too young by law to drink, and he was my ride up here."

"I could drive," Robbie retorted, shifting as though to stand up. But it proved too much for him and he sat back down, holding his head in his hands.

"I think he's high too," Fey glanced down at him suspiciously. "This is just great."

"Murph and I can take ye home, Fey," Connor offered, giving Robbie's dazed form a disgruntled look.

"I couldn't ask you guys," Fey shook her head, pulling out her wallet and checking inside. "I'll call us a cab. I didn't spend too much money tonight thanks to you guys, I should have enough."

"Please, Fey," Murphy interrupted, touching her arm. "Let me an' me brother get the two a ye home."

Fey sighed again. "That's very sweet of you two, but the show isn't over and you guys paid to see it. You should enjoy it."

"I've got the CD in the car," Murphy countered. "We can listen ta it durin' the car ride."

Connor rolled his eyes and grumbled something under his breath. When Fey looked confused, Murphy smiled. "Don't mind me brother. He prefers Dropkick Murphy."

Her eyes widened a bit before she started laughing gently. "They'll be playing at The Pageant in St. Louis next month."

"Really," Murphy asked, giving her a wink. "Well, maybe we'll be here ta see it. Now what d'ye say? Will ye let me an' me brother be good Catholic Irishmen an' help a lass in need?"

She looked up into his eyes and the dark suspicion that he saw there nearly made him recoil in self-disgust. But her face lightened, glancing down to Robbie then back up to him. "Okay. But we both live pretty far, so you'll at least let me repay you for the gas."

"Deal," Connor gave a slight nod, taking the few steps to be standing over Robbie. "Now let's get this bastard up an' ta the car."

He grabbed two fistfuls of Robbie's shirt and hauled him to his feet. Robbie went easily, seeming like a boneless mass as he slumped forward.

"Christ, Murph," Connor grimaced, pulling his face back as Robbie's breath reached his nose. "I've not smelled anythin' that foul since we left Boston."

Murphy laughed, throwing an arm around Fey's shoulders. "Can't be as bad as back home."

"Nothin's bad as that," Connor grinned, shaking his head as he started pulling Robbie for the door. Robbie gave a very disgusting belch, leaning heavily on Connor, who gave his brother a dirty look. "I swear ta fuckin' God, Murph, if this bastard pukes in the car, I'm dumpin' his arse on the side a the road."

Fey was the one that laughed this time. Murphy looked down at her, grinning as she said lightly "Robbie's a tosser anyway."

"Ye really have been 'round Irishmen," he chuckled loudly, walking with her to the door. As he pulled it open for her, he realized she was just in her half-soaked Guinness t-shirt, already looking cold in the gust of snow-laden air that seeped around them. "The fuck's yer coat at? It's freezin' outside."

"I left it in Robbie's truck so I wouldn't lose it," she answered. "It's not too far from the door."

"Not too far," Murphy mumbled in disbelief, pulling off his coat as he shook his head. "Middle a winter an' ye're walkin' 'round without a coat on. Be damned if I'll let ye…"

"I'm not taking the coat, Murphy," Fey shook her head, pushing the offered pea coat away. "The truck is practically right outside the door. You'll be colder than me…"

"Take the coat, Fey," Murphy coaxed holding it out to her.

She rolled her eyes and grabbed it, slipping it on. "But only until we get to Robbie's truck and get mine."

"Fine," he nodded and was surprised when she grabbed his hand and ran out the door.

Murphy struggled slightly to keep up with her as she ran through the now heavy snowfall. His feet were nowhere near as sure as hers on the slick pavement, but he managed, noticing that she held the coat closed with one hand and his fingers tightly with the other. As he watched her go, he marveled at the way the pure white snowflakes clung to the dark hair trailing behind her. And he knew he was still on the tipsy side when he realized just how pretty he found her.

They came to a beat-up looking truck, where Fey grabbed the passenger door and pried it open, shrugging out of Murphy's coat and handing it back before slipping on her long, dark leather one. He enjoyed the way she flipped her hair over the collar, but he wasn't paying close enough attention when she came at his face with something dark purple, knitted, and fuzzy.

"The fuck," he squawked, backing away a half step.

"It's a hat, Murphy," she clucked her tongue, leaning up and slipping it over his already disheveled hair. "To keep your head warm."

He nodded, straightening it on his head as she grabbed her rather large purse. Then, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder to keep them both warm as he led her to the twins' car. Connor had already piled Robbie in the backseat, Fey slipping in beside him.

"Guess maybe I should look into some better friends," she shook her head, buckling up as Murphy got in the passenger seat.

"Why," Murphy grinned, twisting in his seat to look at her as she rummaged through her purse and Connor pulled onto the street. "Ye just met me an' me brother. Ye can't possibly want ta be rid a us yet."

"I meant, Robbie," she rolled her eyes, and Murphy laughed.

"Murph, where the fuck d'ye get that hat," Connor chuckled, glancing from the road to his twin.

"Fey gave it ta me," he replied, sitting back in his heat with a smug look. "Don't I look dashin' in it?"

Connor only shook his head with a smile. "Ye look somethin' alright, but dashin's not what I'd call it."

"Here," Fey said from the back, producing another hat and holding it out to Murphy. This one was dark blue with a fuzz ball on top and ear flaps. "Put this on him."

Murphy took the woolen cap and slid it over Connor's head, despite Connor's protests and swatting hands. With a sound pat on the top of the head, Murphy glanced in the backseat and gave Fey a wink.


	4. Lactose Intolerance

**A/N: Thanks everyone who's been reading and reviewing. This new story seems to be well-received! I'm so glad! Sorry it took so long to get around to an author's note, but please don't think I've forgotten about my wonderful readers ;) **

**Hugs to you all**

**Sithy**

It was a good thing Connor hadn't had as much to drink as Murphy. As upright as he was, he was sure should he have been behind the wheel of the car, they probably would have gone off the bridge and into the Mississippi River below. The roads were getting a bit slick from the heavy snowfall and Murphy just didn't trust his reflexes entirely at the moment. He couldn't even look away fast enough when Fey caught him staring at her. To his amusement, she would smile politely and look away, sometimes glancing at a deeply snoring Robbie.

They both lived in Missouri, Robbie forty or fifty miles south of the city in a little town called Pevely. When they took the exit off the highway, Murphy could see that it consisted of mainly a few fast food places, a grocery store, and a gas station/truck stop. Fey informed them that there was a metal foundry or two, a flea market for which they had seen road signs, and lots and lots of cows.

"Pevely, milk," Murphy chuckled. "Bet this place smells like shite when it's warmer."

"You bet," Fey replied. "But most of the dairy farmers around here sell to Prairie Farms, not Pevely. Kind of ironic, huh?"

"Oh Christ," Connor groaned, rolling his eyes as he took a left onto Highway Z. "Not another milk connoisseur."

Murphy wondered if he was blushing as he glared at Connor, before glancing back to Fey. "Don't mind me brother. He just hates the fact tha' I won't eat just any slop he tries ta put in front a me."

"It's fuckin' milk fer Christ's sake, Murph," Connor retorted hotly. "All that pasteurized, homogenized bull-shite tastes the fuckin' same."

"No, it doesn't," Murphy turned on his brother. "Some a it's gritty and waters, like it's soured 'fore it's expiration date, an' some a it's got this after taste that'll just kill ye. If I can't have me milk straight out a the cow like back in Ireland, then I'll have whatever damned packaged stuff I want."

"I swear ta God, Murph," Connor railed back. "If we weren't in the car, I'd beat the shite out a ye fer bein' such a picky bastard."

"Then pull over," Murphy growled slightly. "We'll have it out right 'ere, right on the side a the road in the fuckin' snow."

"Boys, please," Fey cried out, leaning over the seat and putting a cautionary hand on each of their shoulders. Murphy looked up at her surprised, almost having forgotten she was there. Now he felt chagrined for having gotten so aggressive in front of her.

"Connor," she said soothingly, looking over at him. "Murphy's right about some milks. They're just plain crap that no one should have to drink."

Connor glowered, and Murphy gave a triumphant smile before Fey turned her eyes to him with a smirk. "And Murphy, there's no use crying over it. It's just milk."

It was Connor's turn to look smug as Murphy look away from her and back out on to the road. But he heard Fey cluck her tongue gently, like a mother hen, and when Murphy looked back, she was rolling her eyes slightly.

"But I'll tell you what," she sighed. "As long as you guys are in town, I'll make sure you have milk straight from the cow."

Murphy's eyes lit up, a grin spreading his face. "In the glass bottles?"

"Yes, Murphy," Fey giggled. "In the glass bottles."

All he could do was sigh and grin at her, which seemed to make her blush. It was Connor who chuckled deeply before saying "Ah, ye've gone an' done it now, Fey. Ye'll be close ta Mother Mary in Murphy's eyes fer a while."

"Shut it," Murphy snapped back.

"Take this next left, Connor," Fey said, shaking her head with a chuckle as she slid back into her seat.

Murphy glared at Connor a moment before glancing back at Fey. He was caught again, and the shy smile she gave made his heart beat a little faster. The rest of the way was driven in silence, except for the directions that Fey was giving that led right to Robbie's door. Well, not really Robbie's, but his parents' house. Murphy helped her take the passed out young man to the doorstep, where she rang the bell and both made a mad dash back to the waiting car, Murphy laughing the whole way.

They pulled into the street and shut the lights off, waiting to make sure that someone opened the door and collected Robbie. As soon as the porch light went on, they drove off. Murphy was still chuckling when they got onto the highway, and by that time Fey and Connor had been joining in. Once she had gotten her fill, Fey left off with an amused sigh.

"Man, that was fun," she giggled. "But now, back up to the city for my place. Which reminds me. Are you guys staying near McGurk's or The Dubliner?"

"What," Connor asked, glancing at her in the rearview mirror quickly before turning his eyes back to the road. Murphy turned in his seat to face her better.

"Sweet Lord," she said in disbelief. "A couple of Irishmen in St. Louis and you don't know about the only two Irish pubs in town?"

"Well, we did just get 'ere tonight," Murphy replied with a smile.

Fey gave them a confused look. "Then where did you plan on staying?"

"We rented a room in East St. Louis," Connor informed, maneuvering the car as best as possible in the blanket of still-falling snow.

"Oh good God, no," Fey shook her head in disgust. "That's no place for anyone that can help it. No, you'll be getting a place near McGurk's because The Dubliner's food is shite."

"Thanks," Connor replied, glancing at Murphy, who seemed to be enjoying the idea. "But we've already paid fer the room over there."

"I'm sure I can get Mr. Halloran, the pub owner, to pay you back for that," she replied. "Hell, you're Irish! He'll probably give you free food and cheap drinks just for sitting in the pub. Adds to the atmosphere, and poor old Lucky just isn't enough."

"Lucky," Murphy asked with a smile.

"Yeah," Fey nodded. "He came over from Ireland, too. Went back for a while but said there isn't much work to be had, at least not for as much money as over here. So he came back so he could send money off to his family back home."

"Sounds like a right good man," Connor nodded.

"That he is," she replied, then smirked. "Until he passes what he refers to as 'The Green Line' and starts trying to get up all the waitresses' skirts."

"Remind ye a anyone, Conn," Murphy laughed.

"Ah, good ole Uncle Sibeal," Connor said fondly.

"So what do you say guys," Fey urged. "I'll take you by McGurk's tonight and see about getting you a place. Besides, you'll be close to me and I can make sure you get that fresh milk you want."

Murphy looked at his brother expectantly. Surely Connor couldn't pass up the offer of beer, food, fresh milk, and the company of a pretty girl. Of course, Murphy was determined that the company would mostly be kept by him. After all, he had seen Fey first, and Connor seemed to be the one to always get the girls when they went out. It was his turn this time. Connor gave him a glance and in that moment, it was settled. With a grin, Murphy looked back at Fey and nodded.

"Great," she smiled happily. "Take the Gravois exit when we get to the city. McGurk's is off Russell right down the road."

They drove on, reaching the city and finding almost everything covered in snow. There were a few slushy ruts in the street, giving Connor a place to steer through. Most assuredly those ruts would be ice by morning, making travel a hazard. Murphy turned back to look at Fey, ready to ask if this was a common occurrence even in the city, when he realized that she was looking out the window, twiddling the handles of her tote-bag. To his utter amazement, in the dim, yellowed light of the passing streetlamps, there was a logo painted on the outside advertising a library branch.

He was certain he liked Fey even more now as he glanced up at her. Any sweet-faced girl that giggled like an angel, offered fresh cow's milk, could join in an Irish jig, and enjoyed the library could be nothing but pure gold. Murphy had had a certain affection for libraries since he was in his early teens. Being the consummate troublemakers in school, he and Connor had been assigned to work in the town library after classes to keep out of trouble. It was there that Murphy first saw Maire, the pretty, young librarian. She was the first girl he ever had a crush on, despite the fact that he was thirteen and she was in her mid-twenties.

When he first met her, he couldn't speak when she asked him and his brother how old they were. Connor had to swat him in the back of the head to get an answer out of him. Murphy remembered blushing whenever she smiled at him, and several times he had caused a scene knocking over books and people as he tried to watch her at the front desk and wasn't paying attention to anything else. So much of his time was spent at the library, even after his and Connor's mandatory sentence, that his Ma and brother thought he was becoming ill. He read so many books in an attempt to impress Maire that by the end of the school year, he thought he had to know almost everything.

It had been devastating to him when he came to the library one day and saw that Maire had been replaced by an older woman, gray-haired and harsh looking. Apparently, Maire had been married the whole time and had finally become pregnant with her first child. She was taking leave, perhaps never to return even after having the baby. Murphy had gotten over her eventually, but never his love for books. Connor, whose brains had been more toward the mathematical and mechanical, actually teased him about it for a while, but that too faded.

"Murphy," Fey asked, sounding concerned as she looked up at him.

"Hmm? Oh…" he said, blinking and giving a rueful smile. "Sorry. I was thinkin' 'bout somethin'. I see ye've got a tote from the library. Ye go there much?"

"I'll say," she gave that sweet giggle again. "If I didn't, they'd fire me."

Murphy squinted his eyes a bit in confusion. "Huh?"

"I work there," she laughed. "I'm a librarian."

His eyes widened and his jaw nearly hit the floor board. He slipped back into his seat properly, catching Connor's quick, smirking glance. From the look, Murphy knew his brother remembered that crush just as vividly as he did. And he was going to be in for some more teasing over it before the night was out


	5. Shakespeare

"Librarian, eh," Connor asked, glancing back at Fey in the rearview mirror despite Murphy's glare. "Aren't ye a bit young ta be a librarian?"

"I get that a lot," she laughed as he turned onto Russell. "But I took classes in high school that took care of most of my credit for college. After that, I was able to just take the library sciences classes until I graduated. I've only been a full-fledged librarian for a couple months now."

Connor chuckled, driving through the still-heavy snow to find a parking place. "Well, ye sound like a right smart lass."

Murphy scowled at his brother from where he had hunkered down in the passenger seat. Surely Connor wasn't going to put the moves on Fey, not after realizing just how much he was starting to like her, even after only a couple of hours. It just wouldn't be fair. Since starting their mission, Connor had had several girls. Some he was even able to stay with for a week or two if he tried hard enough. Not quite long enough for a relationship, if you asked Murphy, but at least better than the one or two night stands he had been having. Because Connor, in his infinite wisdom, was right, Murphy really was a picky bastard.

Where his brother had a wide range of taste in women and was able to satisfy himself easily enough with any woman he found attractive and charming, Murphy had a standard that he let few women meet. He wanted someone sweet and lovely, but not high-maintenance. Someone who was smart, but knew how to have a little fun. And damned if Fey wasn't already fitting the bill in all areas. Plus, she was a librarian. She just had to be a fucking librarian, didn't she?

"Ye know, Fey," Connor began as he pulled into a parking spot just down the street from the pub. "When we were younger, Murph here used ta be a bit o' a bookworm."

"Conn," Murphy hissed under his breath in warning, glaring at his brother and sliding further down in the seat. Was Connor really going to try and embarrass him in front of Fey?

But Fey started giggling, and it drew him up so that he could look at her over the seat. "That's wonderful, Murphy! It's always nice to meet someone with an appreciation for books. We'll have to discuss favorite authors sometime."

All he could do was nod slightly as he stared at her, hoping he wasn't blushing. Then he quickly wet his dry lips with his tongue and managed the choked word "Aye."

That shy smile of hers returned, and Murphy thought he actually felt butterflies in his gut. He kept trying to tell himself that it was just the alcohol. Something about this St. Louis beer was getting him all twisted up in knots. But his brain wasn't drunk enough to buy it.

"Guinness," he said out of nowhere, and thought he might actually die from embarrassment when Fey gave him a confused look.

Connor chuckled lightly. "I do believe that's Murph's way a sayin' he's ready fer another round."

Murphy buried his face into the car upholstery, knowing it was burning red now. Fey replied sweetly, "Well, come on then. You Irishmen are due for another anyway."

He heard her open the back door and climb out, and still he didn't lift his face from the seat. He shook his head slightly and gave a frustrated sigh at himself. Then Connor's hand gave him a sound clap on the back.

"Ye're doin' a fine job a winnin' 'er over, Murph," he said, trying to hold back the laughter in his voice.

"Shut it, ye fuckwit," Murphy replied, batting his brother's hand away.

Connor let fly with the chuckle he had been trying to contain as he opened the driver's door and stepped out. Murphy stayed where he was for a few moments, taking a deep breath before calming himself and getting out of the car. But the moment he saw Fey standing there in the falling snow, the butterflies started fluttering again. He desperately wanted to believe that it was the alcohol and not the fact that she looked like a piece of artwork in the heavily falling snow. It caught on her dark hair and coat, and the coldness of the night made her pale skin slightly rosy at the cheeks. Thank God for that, because it must have hidden the blush on his face when she locked eyes with him again.

"Come on, Murphy," she coaxed with a smile he was sure lit up half the street.

Fey held a hand out for him, and he just stared at it for a split second before placing his palm over hers to let her fingers wrap his up snugly. Her gloved hand was warm against his bare one, but he still wished she didn't have it on. Worse, he was starting to envy that stupid glove. Oh, that he might be a glove upon that hand. Romeo and Juliet. He knew he was close enough to drunk when he started referencing Shakespeare in his head.

"Murphy, are you alright," Fey asked him gently, stopping just outside the pub door. She reached up and touched her fingers to his cheek, giving him a concerned look. He sucked in a quick breath as he looked down at her and nodded.

"Just needs another pint in 'im," Connor replied with a grin, dropping his hand on Murphy's shoulder and giving him a little shake. "Ain't that right, Murph?"

"Aye," he answered, managing a half smile and a nod since Connor had broken him out of his little trance.

Fey didn't look convinced, but she nodded as well. And Murphy could have kissed her for being so concerned about him, even though she was part of the reason why he was so flustered. Connor reached for the door and opened it for Fey like a gentleman, winking at Murphy who stepped in directly after.

The pub was warm, slightly crowded, and filled with the sounds and smells of a real Irish pub on a good night. There was live Celtic music playing over the mirthful din, and there were photos of Irish boxers on the walls. Celtic knots and crosses were carved into the woodwork all over the place and the main bar was nearly packed with people. And Lord bless it, the place even had Guinness on tap. Murphy was instantly in love with the place, and it deepened when a portly man at the far end of the bar raised his glass in salute.

"Oi, everyone," the man shouted with a thick Irish accent, like he'd just come off the boat. Even the musicians slowed their tempo to look. "Fey's come 'ome!"

People looked over at Fey expectantly as she stood in the doorway with Murphy's hand in hers. To Murphy's utter delight, she grabbed a bottle off a passing tray despite the waitress's frustrated sigh, and held it up in an answering salute.

"Lucky, ya right bastard," she called out with a fake Irish accent and a giggle. "I've brought ya a couple a lads ta last a few rounds with ya."

Lucky gave a hearty laugh that became harder as she put the bottle to her lips and took a long swig. The rest of the pub laughed a while as things returned to normal. Murphy glanced back at Connor, who had stepped inside and was removing his blue knit cap with its puff ball and earflaps.

"What, don't ye like the cap, Conn," he snickered, enjoying his brother's glare.

"It was nice a 'er ta think a it," Connor grumbled. "But powder blue just isn't me color."

"Why," Fey chimed in around Murphy's shoulder, making him stiffen just a little. "It really brings out the color of your eyes, Connor."

She giggled again, and it was close enough that Murphy could almost feel it through his coat to his skin. It brought a smile to his face, and soon he was giggling along with her. Connor rolled his eyes slightly and held the hat out to Fey.

"Thank ye fer yer concern," he said, trying to sound polite. "But ye can have yer hat back."

Murphy saw his brother glance up, and judging from the mischief that started to fill his eyes, there was a girl not too far behind them that had caught Connor's fancy. He gave Murphy and Fey a quick nod before walking past them. On instinct, Murphy turned to follow, only to be met with Fey's smile. It made him pause to look down at her.

"I suppose you'll be wanting to give that one back too," she smirked, motioning to the hat still on his head.

He reached his hands up there to cover it somewhat defensively. "I like this one. Can I keep it?"

"Of course you can," she beamed. "Wouldn't want you to catch your death, and I have a ton of them at home. But you can take it off inside, Murphy."

"Aye," he replied ruefully, pulling it off. He saw Fey's fingers fly to her face immediately, trying to hold the laughter in her mouth at what only could have been a hellish case of hat-hair. Quickly combing it back down with his fingers, he felt the heat trying to rise to his face again.

Fey reached up and tugged gently at one of the shaggy locks that just refused to listen to him. It listened to her, and soon it was back to its usual chaotic mess. She patted the top of his head with a soft smile. "Next time, I'll bring a comb and we'll really do a number on you."

Murphy let his hands fall back to his sides as he grinned at her slightly. "Yes, ma."

"Come on then," she scoffed playfully, taking his hand again. "I need to find Mr. Halloran. I'm sure Lucky will be able to get a seat for you."

As he followed behind her, Murphy realized just how much he enjoyed holding hands with Fey. The idea made him feel like a school boy again, and he was somewhat frustrated that he was acting so childish. Surely at this rate, he'd turn completely back into the bumbling teenager he used to be, tripping over his own feet and knocking people over. He could just imagine making a complete ass of himself in front of strangers, his brother, and Fey. But the feel of her skin on his was supremely enticing. How long had it been since he'd just held hands with a girl? Palm to palm, in a holy Palmer's kiss. Christ! More Shakespeare!

He would have wanted more skin, more touching, but his mind was too addled with drink and sweet boyish fantasies to think that far. It was sweet, blissful innocence that he hadn't felt in such a long time. Something to enjoy and cherish for however long he could keep it. But he was just sober enough to wonder if the next day he'd feel all the same things he was feeling that night. God help him, he was almost sure he would.

Fey brought him to the far end of the bar where Lucky was sitting. Connor had somehow found his way over there, with a waitress that seemed to be absolutely fawning over him. There was a stool open between his brother and Lucky, and Murphy knew it had his name written all over it.

"Devin," Lucky called to the bartender. "Fetch me new friends a few pints a Guinness. This one 'ere looks like 'e's been thirstin' fer one awhile."

The man motioned jovially at Murphy, who only nodded in agreement. Murphy thanked the barkeep for the pint, taking a long drink of it.

"Pace yerself, Murph," Connor warned playfully. "There's plenty on tap 'ere."

"Sod off," Murphy retorted, taking another drink, this time much shorter.

"I see ye found me a pair a right good Irish lads," Lucky chuckled at Fey. "But why're they 'ere an' not back ta yer place where ye could use a man or two?"

Murphy's ears perked up at this. He hadn't thought before that Fey might have a boyfriend. Well, at least after she had said Robbie was most definitely not, the idea never crossed his mind again. He couldn't deny that the knowledge made him a bit happy.

"I see that 'Green Line' is coming up fast," Fey giggled. "You just remember, it's none of your concern what men are or aren't in my home."

"True, lass," Lucky replied. "But ye can't blame a good ole Irishman fer tryin'. I'm sure these young fellas have a much better chance with a pretty lass like ye than I do. Here's ta yer health boys. And whichever gets 'twixt Fey's sheets first gets a round on me."

"Fuck," Murphy was surprised to fear Fey whisper. He glanced up and saw her face was beet red, looking down at her shoes. "Lucky, lay off a minute, and tell me where Mr. Haloran is."

"Oh lass," Lucky shook his head dismally. "He's in the back with some a the boys from The Hill."

"What," Fey hissed, and it piqued Murphy's interest further away from his beer. When Fey seemed to notice this, she shook her head as well. "We'll talk about it later Lucky. But for now, let's hear a good Irish toast."

"Aye," he said nodded slightly. "Any a ye new boys want ta go first?"

Connor raised his glass from the bar. "Ta our wives an' girlfriends, may they never meet."

"Oh, I've got one," Lucky interrupted before Murphy could speak. "Ta a long life an' a merry one. Ta a good death an' a quick one. Ta a pretty girl an' an honest one. Ta a cold beer an' another one!"

Both the brothers laughed and Fey laughed, taking sips of their drinks. Then her eyes turned to Murphy. "Your turn."

He fidgeted slightly in his stool, nibbling a little on his thumb before raising his glass. "When we drink, we get drunk. When we get drunk, we sleep. When we sleep, we do no sins. When we do no sins, we go ta Heaven. So, let's all drink an' go ta Heaven!"

Another round of laughter and drinks, and Murphy looked up at Fey expectantly. "What about ye, Fey? D'ye have any American ones?"

"Umm…" she looked at a loss for words, smiling a little. "I'd rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy?"

Murphy couldn't stop himself from laughing hard at this one, and with it they all finished their drinks off. Lucky stood up then and held a hand out to Fey.

"Will ye dance with an' old man, lass," he asked with a smirk. "At least before one of these lads realizes what a catch ye are an' runs off with ye."

Fey blushed again, but nodded as she took his hand. He led her out into the crowded dancing area. Murphy watched them go, feeling slightly left out as he turned his attention back to his glass of Guinness.

"Ah, but ye already know, don't ye," Connor teased him as soon as Fey and Lucky were out of earshot. "She's a sweet lass. Christ Murphy, ye'll finally have yer librarian. God love ye fer aimin' high."

"If there's another way, I don't know it," he sighed before taking another drink.


	6. Fish Face

**A/N: Geez, guys, I keep forgetting to leave author's notes on these things and then I think about them after it's too late. Just for the record, every major place written about in the story is an actual place in St. Louis and the surrounding areas, though I have changed a few minor details. McGurk's is an Irish pub in Soulard owned by Mr. Haloran and populated by Lucky and a couple other Irish regulars, The Dubliner's food is shite, Pevely is full of cows and corn, and The Hill is the local Italian neighborhood. You'll need to know that last bit for later on in the story hint hint ;) **

**Love, Sithy**

By the time the song had ended, Murphy was already halfway through another pint. Fey came up to him with a big smile on her face, Lucky having decided to stay on the dance floor with another girl. Murphy had to blink to take all of her in. She was just too beautiful standing there with her cheeks flushed from laughing and dancing, her eyes bright as they locked with his, kicking up the butterflies yet again.

"Will you dance with me, Murphy," she asked sweetly, taking his breath away completely for a moment.

"Can't dance," he managed to croak out, shaking his head slightly.

Her smiled faded just a little and her brow furrowed in confusion. "But we just danced together a couple hours ago."

"Right," he nodded nervously, feeling his cheeks heat up. "What I mean ta say is, I can't dance right now. A few good jostles an' I may be sick all over ye."

"Oh," she replied gently, her expression a cross between disgust and disappointment. "Well, if you feel like you're going to throw up, the bathrooms are just around the bar. There are a few people who want to buy me drinks for my birthday, so I'll come back and check on you in a little bit, okay?"

He nodded in understanding, but the second she turned away, Murphy buried his face in his folded arms with a groan. Why in the world hadn't he just gotten up and danced with her? It's not that he didn't want to. Christ, he could have danced with her all night and all day until they both fell to the floor in exhaustion, laughing and holding onto each other until they could move their legs again. But he knew the second he stepped onto the floor, he would have become the worst dancer in the world. An idiot with two left feet and no rhythm, knocking people into each other and causing a scene the likes of which would undoubtedly make Fey never want to speak to him again. Of course, saying that he might throw up all over her probably didn't help matters.

"Ye're one smooth customer, Murph," Connor taunted, his hand landing squarely between Murphy's shoulder blades. Apparently the waitress had gone off to actually work for a while. "Women just love it when ye tall 'em that they make ye sick."

Murphy's eyes widened in horror. "Fuck! That's not what I meant. D'ye really think she'll think that's what I meant?"

"All right, calm down," Connor chuckled. "I'm sure she knows that's not what ye meant. Otherwise she would've gone off in a huff and not offered ta check in on ye later."

"'Spose ye're right," Murphy conceded, giving his brother a quick nod.

"A course I'm right," Connor chuckled. "Christ Murph, she's made ye goofy, an' ye've made 'er more confidant. Wouldn't ye call that an even trade?"

Murphy gave a lop-sided grin. "Aye, I would."

He took another drink and over the rin of the glass caught sight of Fey further down the bar. She was standing between two much older men who were patting her shoulders and handing her a shot glass. Murphy wasn't sure, but it could have been something a bit like jealousy that was starting to crawl up the back of his throat. Nothing violent, but morose wish that she had wanted to have shots with him instead of a couple of old sods who probably thought of her more as a pet than as a woman. A beautiful, sweet, intelligent woman who he should have yes to dancing with on her birthday.

But Fey looked up from the bar, their eyes meeting as she gave a huge grin. Raising her shot glass, she gave him a wink. Murphy raised his Guinness in kind and down the hatch her drink went. She sat the glass down and grimaced, making him chuckle a bit. It was probably the first shot of anything hard she had ever had. He took a sip of his beer, but nearly snarfed it all over himself when Fey stuck her tongue out at him and smiled.

Murphy sat his glass down, wiping his lips with the back of his hand before returning the gesture. Fey covered her mouth as she started to laugh, then did the absolute funniest thing Murphy had seen in ages. She sucked her cheeks in hard so that her lips were extremely pursed, crossing her eye as she looked down the bridge of her nose and stuck her hands out to either side of her cheeks. With that she started flapping her hands a little, making herself look like a swimming fish. He laughed so hard it brought tears to his eyes. When she dropped the fish face, Murphy would have said she looked almost smug. But then she disappeared into the crowd, and he felt a little lost without her to look at.

Fey suddenly appeared beside him, smiling and grabbing for his hands again. "I don't care if you do throw up all over me, Murphy."

"Fey, I…" he began, trying to think of something to say because he was still mortified of embarrassing her.

"Please, Murphy," she begged, looking into his eyes with a slight pout. "There's no one here I'd rather dance with than you."

That fact made his heart leap into his throat, trying to get out so it could soar around the smoke-filled room and gloat to everyone that the very prettiest girl wanted to dance with him. But he felt like he was nailed to his seat, unable to move as he stared into her dark eyes. He even had to force himself to breathe, and he was quite sure his mouth was hanging open and ready to catch flies. Suddenly, he felt a swift but gentle kick to the small of his back. It was enough to knock him off the stool and onto his feet, nearly toppling Fey over with him. Murphy grabbed her hips to keep either of them from falling. She let out a surprised yelp, but when she looked up at him, she was smiling again.

Glancing back, Murphy saw Connor with his feet propped up on his stool, grinning like the Cheshire cat. Then Fey's hands were on his shoulders, fingers brushing against his neck and giving his skin goosebumps. "Come on, Murphy. It's a slow dance anyway."

Slow dance! Just the words made Murphy's palms start to sweat as she lead him onto the dance floor. It had been a long time since he'd actually slow danced. The last time had to have been when he was still in school, when they tried to teach young men and women to be proper ladies and gentlemen. Guess that had never panned out. But the slow dancing had never been his strongest area. And he hoped now that he didn't break any of Fey's toes by stepping on them.

Murphy's breath caught in his throat when she stopped and turned to him, placing his hands on the curve of her waist. She seemed a bit shy about it as well, but managed to put her hands on his shoulders and smile up at him. He licked his dry lips and took a deep breath.

"I'm not very good with slow dancin'," he muttered quietly, trying not to look ashamed.

"Me either," Fey replied. "So I guess we'll just shuffle our feet and pretend we like each other."

He nodded, licking his lips again, and wanted to tell her it wasn't pretend. A voice in his head wanted to yell out to everyone just how much he liked her, how ecstatic he was that she wanted to dance with him, how good she made him feel despite the sweaty palms and idiotic remarks. Murphy started shuffling his feet first, feeling like a little boy as he looked down to watch them as they went. Fey giggled and touched his cheek, making him pause and look up at her. She must have felt the heat coming off his skin there, because she slid her hand away as soon as their eyes met again.

"Keep your eyes on me Murphy," she smiled shyly, a hint of red touching her cheeks as well.

And he was more than content to do so as he started moving his feet again. He moved one hand to the small of her back, guiding her as he turned a little. She followed easily, her arms wrapping loosely around his neck and bringing her body within an inch of his. His fingers curled gently against her back, wanting to pull her closer as he looked down into her eyes. The tempo of the music began to pick up, and Murphy adjusted accordingly. Then all of a sudden, it wasn't slow dancing anymore. It was he and Fey spinning in circles while they laughed, clutching each other closely, Fey's giggle sending a shiver up Murphy's spin as it brushed against the crook of his neck. Maybe they were both on the tipsy-side, but Christ was it fun!

Fey pulled her face away from his neck and looked up at him, her eyes bright with laughter. Those damned butterflies started again, and Murphy realized he was holding his breath as their lips came so close to touching. Several things passed through his mind in that moment, not the least of which were whether or not his breath stank of beer and cigarettes and what exactly was that intoxicating scent that Fey had about her? He had almost worked up the nerve to do it, palms clammy again like the first time he's ever kissed a girl. He was half-way to pressing his lips over hers when Fey was ripped away from him.

Or rather, he was tugged away from Fey, but it had the same effect. Her face looked absolutely stricken as it watched him being pulled backwards a bit. Turning, Murphy saw a man about his age holding onto his upper arm. Something about the greasy-haired guy screamed Italian-American with several exclamation points afterwards. The guy was glaring at him a bit and Murphy couldn't help but glare back.

"Mind if I cut in," he asked, and the accent confirmed Murphy's suspicions about him.

"I don't want to dance with you, Valenti," Fey scoffed, grabbing Murphy's hand and pulling him away. The guy, Valenti, let his arm go and Fey stepped in front of him almost protectively, though her fingers stayed laved with his behind her back. "Why don't you and the rest of your Boys from the Hill go back home and leave us and Mr. Haloran alone?"

The tension and animosity was thrumming across Fey's skin, making her shake a little. Murphy could feel it and honestly say he already hated this man. It was made even worse when he reached out and took Fey's chin in his fingers.

"And why would I want to leave a beautiful creature such as you alone," he snickered.

The bile that rose in the back of Murphy's throat was nothing compared the anger searing his brain. Without warning, he smacked Valenti's hand away from Fey's face and nearly growled "Ye got no right touchin' 'er."

"And you do," the Italian man snarled.

"He's my date tonight," Fey retorted, fingers squeezing Murphy's a little tighter. "Now go back to the Hill where you belong and stay there."

"You'll come around one day, Fey," Valenti smirked. "You'll stop falling for boys and want a real man."

"When that happens," Fey sneered back. "I'll ask you where I can find one."

Valenti's eye twitched a little, trying to cover up what Murphy was sure was pure rage. He felt it himself, only directed right at the skull of the Italian man. Valenti gave a curt nod and started walking away, snapping his fingers. Three men pulled away from the crowd and followed him out the door. Once they were gone, Fey heaved a great sigh and slumped forward a little. Murphy grabbed hold of her, afraid she might fall, but she wasn't going that far. She turned in his arms and looked up at him, all the previous mirth gone from her face and it broke Murphy's heart a little. Her face was meant to be happy and smiling.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and he was more than willing to hug her, pulling her in close without asking any questions. He wanted to comfort her, to make her feel safe and happy again. Lord, he wanted to be a hero for her. In all the time he and Connor had been on this mission of theirs, he had never once cared for or even thought of the term "hero." Now, more than anything he wanted to be that knight in shining armor that girls were always supposed to dream about.

"Are ye alright, Fey," he asked and immediately felt like an idiot.

She stirred against him and looked up with a little nod. "Sorry. Guess I should have asked for that hug first, you being a stranger and all."

"Happy ta give it," he reassured her, face still looking concerned.

"Come on," she said, the light trying to filter back into her eyes as she took his hand again. "Let's get you back to the bar before Connor starts worrying about you."

Murphy didn't have time to argue before she started tugging him along. He followed happily, childish wanting to ignore what had happened on the dance floor. He knew it would have to be brought up later, but if she was willing to act as though nothing happen, he was willing to go along with that. Of course when they returned to the stools, the look on Connor's face told Murphy he had seen what had happened. Murphy shook his head slightly and Connor nodded in understanding.

Fey sat Murphy back down on his stool and slid into Lucky's seat because he was still on the dance floor with a much younger woman. Murphy finished the beer in his glass and sat it down with a satisfied sigh before grinning at Fey. Propping his elbow in the counter and pressing his face against his palm, he made it more comfortable to look at her. She glanced over at him once in a while with her shy smile. He wanted to reach out and brush his fingers over her cheeks and down her hair. She just had to be as soft as she looked. And she probably tasted as sweet as her personality.

"Can I get you another," the bartender asked him.

"Aye, I'd love another kiss," Murphy mumbled. Then his eyes went wide and his cheeks flamed thirteen shades of red. Fey giggled a little and Connor was chuckling loudly behind him. "I mean, I'll have another pint."


	7. Spaced

**A/N: Thank you to all the readers and reviewers. And a special thanks to BelhavenOnTap for her beta-ing skills. **

**-Love,Sithy**

Murphy had been rolling Fey's name around on his tongue for a while now. It just sounded so sweet and pretty and a little old-fashioned. Not too many people he could remember named Fey, but it was familiar. And it felt nice saying it, sighing it, smiling it, writing it across the bar with his fingertip. So what if he had had two or three or four more pints since she had walked away from the bar to find Mr. Haloran. And who cared if one more could cause him to lose his ability to sustain an inner monologue. He had pretty, pretty Fey's name on his tongue and she had said he was her date tonight. He'd just met her, but he was her date. Maybe there was something to be said for Irish luck.

Turning his head, he saw his brother leaning his forehead against his folded arms on the bar. Both were soundly drunk, and by the looks of him, Connor was a bit knackered. But Murphy could have gone all night with the thought of Fey in his head. As if just thinking about her made her appear, he saw her coming through the crowd toward him. She was smiling broadly, and he knew his answering grin had to be on the stupid-side of things. But it's all he could do as she came up and leaned against the bar next to him.

"You're so drunk, your eyes are floating," she giggled, and he closed his eyes so he could soak the sound in better.

"Fairy," he shouted suddenly. When she jumped a little from the outburst, he gave a rueful smile before putting a hand on her shoulder. "Yer name! It means fairy!"

She took his hand off her shoulder, holding it in hers and giving him a gentle smile. "Yes it does, Murphy. And it took you being wasted to figure it out."

"What'd Mr. Haloran say," Connor slurred, poking his eyes up from his arms.

"Well, boys," Fey began with a sigh. "It seems there's no rooms open around here tonight. Add to that, the roads are in no condition to be driven on tonight. So, I'll be taking you back to my place."

Murphy's jaw dropped a little. He tried saying something charming and suggestive, but all that came out was "Can I wear me new hat?"

"Of course, Murphy," Fey smiled, ruffling his hair a bit. "Wouldn't want you to catch your death."

"Ye've said that before," he smiled triumphantly before he giggled as well. Reaching into his pocket, he tried pulling the hat on his head, but he just couldn't manage it properly. Fey took the cap from him and gently slipped it over his head. All Murphy could do was look into her eyes and wonder what it would be like to wake up next to them in the morning. The idea was very promising.

He watched as Fey slipped over to Connor, who had managed to stand himself up a lot easier than Murphy. Without warning, she pulled out the powder blue cap and fastened it to Connor's head, going so far as to tie the ear flaps around his head. When he started to complain about it, she leaned up and kissed his cheek to quiet him. Murphy could have hit his brother for that, even though it really wasn't his fault. But Fey turned and gave him something better. She took his hand and kissed the corner of his lips, making him sigh happily.

"Come on boys," she laughed. "Let's get you to my place so you can sleep off all this Guinness."

"Do I get to sleep with you," Murphy asked as she herded them toward the door, not realizing just how bad it sounded.

Fey just giggled again and wrapped an arm around his waist to steady him. "No Murphy, dear. I have an air mattress we'll put up when we get there."

He couldn't stifle his upset groan as he leaned against her for support. Murphy didn't want Fey to know that he was fully capable of walking upright, she seemed so eager to help. Connor was a tad wobbly himself, but obviously knew the game Murphy was playing. When they reached the door and pulled it open, Murphy was extremely grateful for the hat and the warmth of Fey beside him. She fit just perfectly against him, and it was blissfully sweet to have her there.

The snow outside was at least four or five inches deep already and still falling heavily. The sidewalks were basically deserted except for them and a stray cat that crossed their path. Fortunately it was a tabby cat and not a black one, otherwise Murphy would have been very upset. He didn't want anything to ruin the luck he had been having that night. And it had to be luck, pure dumb Irish luck that he happened across an amazing woman at a concert and had the chance to spend the whole night with her. Of course, it could have been fate, but he was much too drunk to think about fate.

"Here we are boys," Fey smiled up at Murphy as she stopped in front of the gate to a chain-link fence. "Home sweet home."

She flung the small gate open and walked Murphy through it as Connor followed behind. Murphy watched her look back and give a frustrated sigh. Lifting his head to see what was happening, he found Connor standing at the gate, trying to close the hook latch and failing miserably. Fey walked back toward the gate and Murphy couldn't help but laugh wildly as she dumped him against Connor and took over the operation of closing the gate properly. Apparently the drunken hilarity of it was not lost on Connor who began to chuckle as well.

The sight of Fey's pretty eyes rolling made Murphy's grin widen and he pushed away from his brother to wrap an arm around her shoulders. The motion sent him slightly off balance, so he grabbed her harder then he meant to, pressing his forehead against her cheek before correcting himself. He lingered there a moment, just enjoying the feel of his skin against hers and wondered if he could get away with kissing her. He tilted his head, trying his best to aim his lips for her cheek, but Fey suddenly giggled, making him pause to hear it.

"Jesus, Murphy, your breath tickles," she laughed joyfully, which made him smile. "Let's go, fellas. The longer we stay out here, the better chance we have of freezing. Connor, grab hold of my shoulder so I don't lose you."

Murphy giggled because she sounded so motherly and authoritative. But Connor did as he was told and Murphy gave him a warning look behind Fey's head to let him know that a shoulder was all he'd be touching on her. Connor grinned mischievously, but nodded in understanding. Murphy knew the grin was only because Connor knew he wanted to keep Fey all for himself. Well, as much as Fey would allow him.

Very shortly after giving his brother that glare, Murphy realized he was standing in a hallway outside an apartment door. At least, he thought it was very shortly. He blinked, but couldn't remember how Fey had gotten them inside or upstairs, because he could see out a hall window and tell they were on the second level. Maybe Fey had magic. Yes, fairy magic like her name suggested. He laughed again as she leaned him against the wall next to the door, Connor leaning on the opposite side.

"Shh," she urged, fumbling for her keys in her pocket. "Other people live in this building."

"But it's yer birthday," Connor chuckled, pressing his forearms and head against the wall as if to steady himself.

"Aye," Murphy giggled loudly just as Fey got the door open. "We're celebratin'."

He took a slightly stumbled step toward her and grabbed her hips, spinning with her into the apartment. She gave a giggle that was muffled against his shoulder as she pressed her face there and tried not to fall over. Murphy just laughed harder, thinking maybe he could just fall over and pull her down on top of him. But then he saw what was on the far side of the room and it made him quiet and still, even with Fey in his arms. There were two waist-high bookcases filled to bursting and more stacks of books piled on top. It made a lop-sided grin show on his face.

"What is it Murphy," she asked, sounding concerned at his sudden change in behaviour.

"The books," was Connor's slurred answer from behind them. "We haven't seen that many in a long time."

Connor was absolutely right. It had been much too long since Murphy was able to pick up a good book and read it. Their current lifestyle definitely did not allow for a library card, or for very many chances to read. And he had become content with that. But now, with all these books staring him in the face, he was torn between going over there and flipping through all of them or giving Fey a sound kiss on the lips for quickly becoming the most amazing woman he'd ever set eyes on.

"Oh," Fey nodded, smiling. "Well, all those books are ones I picked up from the library. See when the library gets new shipments of books, they start to phase out older ones. Or if there's an edition that's out-of-date, they'll either give them or throw them away."

"Throw away books," Murphy asked incredulously as Fey sat him down on the couch. "That's… that's…"

"Obscene," Fey finished for him which made him grin a little and nod.

Connor sat down beside his brother and wiped his face with his hands. "So, ye take in all the ones they're gettin' rid a and bring 'em back 'ere?"

Fey nodded and walked over to a small chest near the book case. Murphy watched her gracefully crouch and open the chest, trying modestly not to let them get a view of her backside. And though he would have liked to see it, in truth would have wanted to reach out and touch her with the reverance he'd previously only saved for the Crucifix at Mass, he was glad she was being so modest. That view was one thing he had no desire or intention of sharing with his brother. When she turned back, she had an air mattress in her hand with the electric pump in the other. Connor, who must not have been as enthralled with the sight of her as Murphy was, reached out and moved the coffee table out of the way so Fey could roll out the air mattress for inflation.

Murphy sank to the floor beside her and watched as she started to undo the main stopper so she could hook up the pump. "D'ye use this thing often?"

"No," she shook her head a little. "Only when company comes over. Hope it'll be okay."

"Perfect," he assured with a smile, feeling his cheeks heat up just a bit when he realized just how intently he was staring at her.

The sound of the pump was loud enough to wake the dead, or at least Murphy thought so. He covered his ears with his hands and turned his face away to find Connor doing the same thing. But it was over soon, and Fey disconnected the pump and quickly closed the mattress so no air would escape. She got up and went into another room, but returned a moment later with pillows and blankets, dropping them on the mattress in front of the brothers.

"Here you go guys," she smiled, starting to throw a sheet over the mattress. "If it gets too cold for you out here, there's a space heater on the other side of the bookshelves."

Connor didn't even bother taking off his shoes or his powder blue hat, instead opting to crawl onto the mattress fully clothed and pull one of the big blankets over him. Without another word, he rolled himself into a tight little cocoon and started to snore. Murphy looked at Fey and started to laugh. Fey giggled too, covering her mouth with her fingers like a little girl. He set to work removing his shoes, but the damned laces just didn't want to untie. Rolling her eyes a little, Fey yanked both off of him and set them neatly next to the couch. She reached for his hat then, but he put his hands over it and shook his head a little.

"Head cold," he mumbled groggily, starting to feel the effects of the evening on him as he yawned.

Fey just gave a warm smile and Murphy really wasn't cold anymore. The drunken butterflies in his gut started moving around again and created heat that threatened to spread other places that it shouldn't. He rolled onto the mattress, looking up at Fey at a sort of upside down angle. Motioning for her to come closer, she leaned her face above his. Her hair spilled down all around his face like a dark curtain that he ached to run his fingers through.

"Fey, Fey. Sweet, beautiful Fairy Fey," he mumbled with a grin and a bit of a chortle, eyes half closed in sleep. "Kiss me goodnight, lovely lass."

"You really are wasted," she smiled down at him.

His eyes opened more and he reached up to brush his fingertips across her soft, pale cheek. "Fey, I'll not sleep 'til ye kiss me."

Murphy closed his eyes, but knew she was blushing. He could feel the heat of it on his fingers. Christ, he knew his cheeks would be red too. The question was if she'd really do it, would she really kiss him because he asked. Heart beating faster in anticipation, he tried to keep himself calm. Then Fey took his hand away from her face and pressed her lips to his forehead just above his right eye, then another one above his left.

"Two kisses for a better goodnight," she said sweetly as she patted his chest. "Pleasant dreams, Murphy."

He let out a happy sigh as he heard her moving away and knew he was smiling like a maniac. She had actually kissed him, and it didn't matter if it was just on the forehead. It was simply wonderful. Pulling the blanket up to his chin and turning onto his side, he knew he'd have good dreams that night.

---

Something woke Murphy up early in the morning. He was normally a very heavy sleeper, especially when drunk, but something pulled him out of sleep very sharply. Opening his eyes slowly, he saw that the room was filled with a bluish-greyish light from the rising sun. The room was unfamiliar, and he wasn't quite sure he remembered how he got there. Someone... Someone nice and sweet...

He heard a sound that made him prop himself up on an elbow to look around. Trying to rub the sleep from his eyes proved impossible, so he settled with trying to see through the grogginess. As he scanned the new room, he saw what looked like a dark-haired angel moving around in the morning light. He lay back down and tried not to think about it. Surely it was all just a dream. Connor laying beside him, wrapped up and still snoring like a buzzsaw. Then the angel moved closer, and he saw her face and was mesmerized. Not an angel, but a fairy, baring... a space heater?

"Murphy," she whispered, and her voice was like honey to his ears. "Go back to sleep."

She was kneeling beside him, and he reached a hand out to touch her but just couldn't make it before she was too far. There was a sudden gust of warmth near the top of his head, his arm still outstretched, trying to grasp at the beautiful creature that was trying to be so elusive. Then she took his hand and gently laid it back down on his chest, patting him gently as she leaned over him.

"Just thought you could use a little more warmth is all," she assured and Murphy couldn't have agreed more. But the warmth he wanted was flowing from his stomach outward and from where her hand touched his. He wanted to pull her closer, but his limbs just wouldn't work, and the world was starting to get black around the edges again as his eyes drooped.

"Go back to sleep," she urged again, leaning closer over him.

If he could just move his arms he could have trapped the fairy beside him for the rest of the night, but it wasn't happening. Instead, she stretched herself against him, their bodies nearly pressed together while her lips gently brushed across his cheek. His fingers had enough strength to reach up and touch her side, trying to beg her to stay with him and keep him warm. She pulled away, and soon he realized she had gone completely, but some of her warmth still lingered on his skin until he was again fast asleep.


	8. Morning Routine

When Murphy's eyes opened again, the room was much brighter, late morning sunlight streaming in through only partially closed blinds. He lay there a few moments longer, yawning and wondering if it had all been a dream. But when he sat up, there was a space heater pointed strategically at both his and Connor's pillows, and near the wall were all the books. Reaching up to run his fingers through his hair, he realized that the knit cap was still on his head. He pulled it off and held it in his hands with a lop-sided grin. No dream at all.

Everything that had happened the night before ran through his head. The drive from Chicago, the concert, the pub, the walk to the apartment; it was all crystal clear in his mind. And Fey, Fey the Fairest, Fey the Fairy with a giggle that could melt the coldest heart and who saved books from incineration while making funny faces and giving the sweetest goodnight kisses in the galaxy. He smiled to himself and gave a gentle chuckle at his thoughts.

She was probably still in bed asleep. And oh how Murphy wanted to go in there with her. Just pull back the covers and crawl in beside, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. But she'd probably wake up screaming bloody murder, smack him, and tell him to get out and that she never wanted to see him again. His heart sank at that thought. He just couldn't bare the idea of her being upset with him. So, no, he wouldn't be going in there, no matter how much he wanted to.

Murphy's stomach grumbled loudly, which actually made him start in surprise. He hadn't noticed how hungry he was before. Slowly standing so as not to wake Connor, he glanced around the apartment, discovering the kitchen area in the corner. He crept over there quietly, thankful that he had his socks still on when his feet went from carpet to linoleum. Rummaging around as quietly as possible, Murphy soon discovered some bowls and some nice, sugary cereal. There was only one ingredient missing, so he headed over to the refrigerator.

There was a sound from the living room, and Murphy looked up to see Connor rolling over. He just smiled and opened the fridge door. Inside, he saw all sorts of things, fruits, meats, leftovers. But in the very back he found what he was after. A glass container filled with milk. He almost shuddered in pleasure at the sight. Pulling it out, he unstopped the bottle and smelled it.

"Fresh cow's milk," he smiled, closing the door and turning his eyes to heaven. "Christ, I love this woman."

"Don't ye think ye should be confessin' yer love ta her an' not God," Connor chuckled, having gotten up off the mattress and walked into the kitchen. "I'm sure He already knows."

"Fuck ye, Conn," Murphy gave him a stern look as he poured the milk over his cereal. But the stern look turned into a huge grin when he realized that the powder blue hat was still strapped onto his brother's head. "Jesus, Conn. That hat really does bring out the color a yer eyes."

Connor scowled and ripped it off his head, grumbling something about powder blue being for pansies and not proper atop a man's head. Murphy giggled and sat at the small table, starting to eat his bowl of cereal. Connor went through a few drawers, seemingly unsatisfied with what he found.

"I just need a good cup a coffee," he muttered, checking the lonely looking coffee maker on the counter. "There's some ready ta be made. Think yer lass would mind if I started it?"

"She's not me lass, Conn," Murphy retorted, taking another bite.

"Fine," Connor replied, a devious smirk crossing his face. "Maybe she'll be mine then."

Murphy's eyes widened before he glared at Connor. "Ye won't touch 'er, ye son of a bitch!"

"Ye do realize - "

"Ah, shut it," Murphy grumbled. "I know what I said an' I know we're twins. Ye still know what I meant."

"Aye, I do," Connor laughed, deciding to turn the coffee pot on before moving over to stand against the wall. "What ye meant was tha' ye really do want the lass, but she's got ye twisted up in so many knots, ye're afraid ye'll make a fool a yerself."

"Thank ye fer yer stunnin' observation, Dr. Phil," Murphy scoffed before scooping up another spoonful of cereal.

"Ye know what I'd be afraid a if I were ye," Connor said, sounding very concerned.

Murphy knew it was probably a trick. He'd done it on several occasions to Connor himself, but he just couldn't keep from looking up with a curious expression. "What?"

"I'd be worried 'bout blowin' another hole in the ozone layer once that milk starts ta kick in, ye lactose intolerant git," Connor started to laugh.

"I swear ta God, Conn," Murphy growled, filling his spoon up again. "One more word out a ye an' I'll…"

Murphy's threat was interrupted by the sound of sweet giggling. He paused; mouth hanging open prepared for the spoonful of cereal and looked over to find Fey standing just inside the kitchen. The cereal fell from Murphy's spoon as he stared at her, mouth unable to close. Christ, she was even more beautiful in the sunlight. She had on a long white robe that was tied at the waist, but peeking out were green pajama bottoms with the Guinness emblem stamped all over them and realistic-looking bunny slippers. Her hair was mussed all over her head, twisted in some places and puffed out in others, completely wild. It was the sexiest thing Murphy could remember seeing, and the smile on her face made it slightly hard for him to breathe.

"You guys are horrible to each other," she laughed, walking over to the counter as she shook her head lightly.

"We're brothers, we're supposed ta be," Connor replied. "There's an obligation ta be even worse since we're twins an all."

"Twins, huh," she smiled at him, then looked at Murphy. He still hadn't managed to get the spoonful of cereal in his mouth. She looked slightly concerned as she asked "Is the cereal okay, Murphy?"

He just stared at her a moment longer, knowing he was blushing. But Connor reached out and swatted him in the back of the head.

"Fey asked ye a question, Murph," he chuckled.

"Oh, aye," Murphy nodded sheepishly, putting the spoon back in the bowl and pushing it all away from him. "It's just fine."

"Then why aren't you finishing it," she asked, walking over to the table with her own bowl. Her voice sounded so sweet and worried, like she was prepared to comfort him if he said he was sick. Thinking about it a second, Murphy was sure having her to comfort him would be worth a day or two in bed with a cold.

"It's not polite," he managed to say, shaking his head a little and glancing up at her before looking down again.

Fey looked utterly confused when she sat down at the table across from him. "What?"

"What Murph means ta say is," Connor began, reaching over to ruffle his brother's hair, much to Murphy's annoyance. "That it's not polite ta eat in front of a lady when she's not eatin' as well."

"Oh," Fey smiled, although Murphy could detect the barest hint of sarcasm in her voice. He looked up and found her smiling warmly at him. "Well, that's very gentlemanly of you Murphy. But I'm getting ready to eat as well, so you can finish."

Murphy could feel his cheeks blushing and he absolutely hated it. Making a fool of himself and his brother was absolutely no help at all. In fact, Connor had a way of making things worse just for fun. He pulled the bowl back to him with a soft nod and watched as Fey poured milk into her bowl.

"Ye know what's really not polite," Connor said, a devious smile on his lips. "The way Murph'll be passin' gas by this afternoon from the milk he's drinkin'."

Murphy was prepared to lunge after his chuckling brother when Fey started giggling again. "It's okay guys, really. I'm lactose intolerant, too."

He sat back down and looked at her curiously. "But ye're drinking milk with yer cereal."

"Yeah," she nodded. "So trust me when I say you can't make the place smell any worse this afternoon than I will. Better out than in, I always say."

He grinned at her as he took another bite of his cereal, giving Connor a dirty look which made his brother's smile widen. Fey had started eating as well, but after a moment, she looked up at Connor.

"Aren't you going to eat," she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I hope ye don't mind, but I started yer coffee," he replied.

Murphy rolled his eyes. "Conn's not much of a breakfast person."

"Cup a coffee's fine fer me," Connor retorted.

"Well," Fey began with a smirk; making both men look at her. "There's real cream in the fridge, and whiskey in the cupboard above it."

Both brothers started laughing, and Murphy did his damnedest not to squirt milk out his nose. He managed to swallow his mouthful before giving his brother a proud grin. "She really does know 'er Irish."

"Aye, she does," Connor nodded. "But I prefer me coffee black first thing in the mornin'."

"Suit yourself," Fey shrugged, grinning at Murphy.

And he could honestly admit that he loved that smile on her face. As they continued eating, and Connor poured his coffee, Murphy found he could barely look away from her. Having slept off his drunkenness, he was much quicker to look away whenever her eyes turned to him. But she still caught him sometimes, their eyes locking for just a second before Murphy looked away. He was always the one to look away first because he really didn't want her to think he was some kind of creep. Plus, he was a little worried that if she looked at his eyes long enough, she'd somehow be able to tell just what he was thinking about her. And at the moment, his thoughts were on how good it had felt when she was pressed against him on the cold walk to her apartment the night before and that wonderful giggle of hers.

"So, Fey," Connor said around his cup of coffee, startling Murphy out of his thoughts. "Ye live 'ere all by yerself?"

"No," Fey shook her head. "I live here with friend. She's gone for the next couple of days to visit her parents for their anniversary."

"Well, isn't that sweet a 'er," Connor replied. "An' does she approve a ye bringin' home strangers?"

Murphy would have glared at his brother, but he did have a point. As appreciative and happy as he was to have been taken in by Fey the night before, it really wasn't a very good idea on her part. He could just imagine her doing the same with someone who were not as good or well-intentioned as him and his brother. The idea of her being hurt sent a shudder through him. But Fey just smirked gently as she looked at Connor.

"Sometimes the benefits outweigh the risks," she answered, then glanced at Murphy, which made his heart skip a beat.

"The fuck's that supposed ta mean," Connor asked, sounding harsher than Murphy would have liked him to.

The smile left Fey, and Murphy could have hit him for that. But the seriousness she took on was quite alarming and it drew all of his attention as she started to speak. "I've been an excellent judge of character since I was very little. I knew the moment I laid eyes on the both of you, that you were good men."

"Gut instinct shouldn't take the place a caution, Fey," Connor reminded gently.

"I know," she nodded. "But having met you guys came in handy when Robbie decided to get plastered and Valenti showed up. That bastard was just hoping I'd get drunk last night so he could take advantage of me."

Murphy's gut twisted at that idea, making him want to clench his hands into fists and pound them into Valenti's face. Fey's smile returned as she glanced up at him, then back to Connor.

"Besides," she said, taking another bite of cereal. "I'm very good at taking care of myself."

"Really," Connor chuckled, sipping at his coffee.

Fey nodded. "A girl doesn't grow up in a city like this and not know how to take care of herself. If you had turned out to be bad men, you might have taken me down, but it would have taken both of you. And both of you would have been bad off by then end of it."

Murphy couldn't help but smile at her confidence. He just couldn't imagine Fey getting into a fight with anyone. But he supposed looks did have a way of being deceiving. He finished off his cereal and looked at the leftover milk in the bowl. Connor was right about the flatulence. If Murphy drank the rest of the milk, he undoubtedly would be adding to the pollutants in the air later that afternoon. And hoping no one lit a match near his rear end. Looking up, he saw Fey watching him. She gave him a wink before picking up her bowl and drinking the milk out of it. Murphy grinned and followed suit.

"Christ," Connor muttered into his coffee cup. "I'll be smellin' it all afternoon."

Fey giggled, standing and picking up Murphy's empty bowl to carry it to the sink. "Then we'll have a contest. I'll bring a lighter, and we'll see who can make a blue flame with their farts."

Connor, who had been taking a sip of coffee, snarfed it loudly at her remark, making Murphy practically scream in laughter. Christ, this woman was entirely too amazing. She came over, a big grin on her face, and shoved a towel into Connor's chest as he tried to recover himself.

"Clean yourself up, Connor," she laughed, before turning to Murphy. When their eyes met, his laughter died away, and he was just lost for a moment staring at her beautiful face, wanting so much to close the distance between their lips. She reached out and grabbed his chin gently, giving a little shake as if to gain his attention as she grinned. "And you, sir, need to go get your shoes on. After I get dressed we're headed back down to the pub."

"Aye," Murphy nodded, reaching up to touch her hand on his face. Her smile suddenly faded, and she blushed badly, as if just realizing she was touch him. It took him a second to notice that he was clutching her fingers gently. Fey started to move her hand away, and Murphy didn't want her to. In fact, he wanted to shout that he never wanted her to take her hands off of him. Her touch was soothing and exciting all at the same time.

But then her hand slipped from his, and she looked away as if embarrassed. Murphy took a deep breath and wondered what in the world she had to be embarrassed about. She was so close to heavenly, even as she turned away from him and headed for what he assumed to be her bedroom. He heard Connor chuckling as he stared after her, but didn't really care.


	9. Ice Caps

Murphy was tightening the laces of his shoes just as Fey came out of the bedroom. He glanced up to find her standing at the end of the couch wearing black khaki slacks with a dark pink sweater vest and a white collared shirt. It was a far, far cry from the jeans and Guinness shirt from the night before, or even the nice white robe from earlier that morning. She looked utterly professional aside from the sweet curve of her face, and Murphy was enthralled by it. He only lamented that her hair was up in a neat French braid, because as lovely as it looked, he enjoyed the way her hair looked down.

"Are you alright, Murphy," she asked gently, giving him a concerned smile.

He hadn't realized he had been staring that badly. Shaking his head, he went back to his shoelaces, knowing his cheeks were bright red.

"Well, don't ye look like a right librarian," Connor chuckled from the kitchen where he had been sipping at a second cup of coffee. "All ye need is a small pair a glasses on the end a yer nose an' ye'd be perfect."

Murphy wanted to argue that she looked perfect anyway, but instead he just nodded slightly and looked up at her again. She was laughing gently behind her hand, and he was slightly jealous that Connor could make her do this. But her eyes locked onto his as she picked her coat up off the arm of the couch.

"I have to go into work for a few hours this afternoon," Fey replied. "But we'll go to the pub first to get your car and see if Mr. Haloran's found a place for you guys."

"Wantin' rid a us already," Connor chuckled, rising out his coffee cup.

"On the contrary," she answered, shaking her head with a smile as she lightly touched Murphy's shoulder. It sent a jolt through him that nearly made him shiver. "I fully expect Mr. Haloran to tell us that he couldn't find a damn thing. That way you'll be stuck staying here with me."

When he looked up at her, Murphy saw Fey give him a wink before pulling on her long black coat. He watched as she stepped over to the coat rack and grabbed a dark pink beret that matched her sweater vest, positioning it expertly on her head. Turning back, she gave each of the brothers an expectant look. And Murphy had to pry his eyes away from her before she figured out he was staring again.

"You guys ready," she asked.

"Aye," Connor nodded, slipping on his coat.

Murphy stood to grab his pea coat as well when he saw Fey making a strange gesture from behind Connor. He paused to see what she was getting at. Her eyes went from the back of Connor's head to her coat. Following her gaze down, Murphy saw a patch of powder blue sticking out of one of her pockets. Connor hadn't noticed and it made Murphy grin mischievously.

"Conn, c'mere a sec," he said, tilting his head to motion his brother closer.

Connor gave him a confused look but complied. Then suddenly, Fey was on him, shoving the powder blue hat down onto his head and tying it quickly from behind as she giggled.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," Connor shouted in surprise and frustration, making Murphy nearly double over back onto the mattress with laughter.

"Try taking it off and I'll box your ears," Fey warned playfully.

Murphy was howling with laughter now, and it was all he could do to bend down and pick up his own knit cap from the bed as his brother started muttering curses.

"Honestly Connor, you make such a big fuss over it," Fey chided gently, pulling gloves out of her coat pockets. "It's going to keep your head warm. You shouldn't care if other people think it looks ridiculous."

Connor groaned loudly, and Fey hid her giggle behind her hand as she glanced at Murphy. "Would ye maybe have another color then, Fey? If ye insist on me wearin' a hat."

"Sorry, Connor," she shrugged. "Unless you want to wear this raspberry beret."

"Did ye find it in a second-hand store," Murphy snickered. He looked up to find Fey smirking at him, which made him pause a moment.

"No," she countered, raising an eyebrow in a arch so perfect it made Murphy shiver. "But if it were warm, I wouldn't wear much more."

All the air left him at the thought of that. Beautiful Fey with just that beret and nothing else? If she weren't so sweet, he would have considered her evil for making him think things like that. All he could do was grin at how cheeky the comment was and fight the urge to tell her it was plenty warm in the apartment and they could stay in for the afternoon.

"Fuckin' Prince," Connor grumbled, shaking his head as he opened the door. "Fuckin' hat."

Then he was gone out into the hallway, leaving Fey and Murphy alone in the apartment. She had wrapped her arms around her stomach, giggling so hard she was nearly doubled over. Murphy went over to her, the grin still plastered on his face because her giggling was just too intoxicating. He was about to touch her shoulder when she straightened up and wiped tears from her face as the laughter started to subside.

"Oh, Murphy," she smiled, unrolling the gloves in her hands. "I feel bad now."

"An' why's tha'," he asked, head cocked to one side in confusion.

"I lied to Connor," was her rueful response as she glanced up at him. "I do have other hats, but that blue one just looks so cute on him."

She hadn't said his knit hat was cute. Murphy rolled his eyes with a slightly derisive snort. "Aye, cute."

Fey smiled up at him, taking his hands and quickly putting her gloves on him. He was slightly surprised by this and managed a gentle "Oi, these're yers."

"Yeah, but I don't want your hands to freeze," she replied, taking the lapels of his pea coat and pulling them tighter. "I would have made Connor wear some, but I think forcing the hat on him was quite enough, don't you?"

He smiled at her, but was surprised even further as she took the hat out of the pocket he had shoved it into and slid it onto his head. "Really, Fey, ye don't have ta…"

But his words were lost as her fingertips trailed down his cheeks in the softest of touches. He found himself looking into her deep, dark eyes and wanted nothing more than to continue doing so for a very long time. Turning his head slightly to the right, he pressed his cheek into her palm, encouraging the touch. Her hand jerked away as if she had been burned, and no doubt his face was probably blushing hot enough to do so.

Fey blinked a few times and looked at his chest, and Murphy had to stifle the whimper of sadness that was threatening at the back of his throat. But her cheeks had turned the most gorgeous shade of pink he'd ever seen and he wanted to kiss them oh so badly, to feel the heat and softness of her skin. His lips had become dry just thinking about it. He licked them nervously, just as Fey glanced back up at his face. Her eyes widened slightly, and Murphy realized just how bad it must have looked, like a predator licking its chops before its next meal.

"I… I…," he stammered dumbly, trying to find the words to smooth over whatever offense he might have caused.

Then Fey giggled, bright laughing eyes returned to his again, making all of his insides nearly melt. She patted his chest as if to reassure him. "Come on. Connor's waiting for us."

She took his hand then, grabbing her bag and leading him out into the hall to find Connor leaning back against the wall. He stood then and gave them a very stern look, which didn't match his pretty powder blue fuzzy hat at all. "Took the two a ye long enough. What, were ye thinkin' up more ways a embarrassin' me while I was out a the room?"

"Yes, Connor," she replied, straight-faced even as she glanced back at Murphy with a lovely twinkle in her eye. "I've decided that finding new and wondrous ways to embarrass you shall be my new life's goal. What do you say, Murphy? You need a partner in that?"

"Could always use a wee bit a help with tha'," he replied, giving his brother a smirk and daring to squeeze Fey's hand a little tighter. He was rewarded with a sweet smile and an answering pressure to his palm. Murphy knew the grin on his face had to be half way to stupid. He couldn't remember when holding had ever been so exciting.

"So I have both a ye against me," Connor replied, though his amusement was evident by the slight twinkle in his eyes. "Fine, at least there'll be a pretty girl involved. That always takes the sting out a things."

Murphy couldn't argue with that. Except that he might have said that Fey was not just another pretty girl. Those damned incessant butterflies that so uproariously flitted around in his stomach every time he looked at her told him that. No, she was so much more than just a pretty girl, she was nigh on to an angel. He smiled gently even as she blushed at Connor's compliment.

"Alright, you flirty Irishmen," she laughed shyly. "Let's get down to the pub to see what Mr. Haloran has to say."

She led them down the stairs at the end of the hall, and Murphy marveled at the thought that she had managed to get both him and his brother up the steps the night before. Outside was bitterly cold, and at least three or four inches of snow covered everything. It might have been beautiful had it not been for the slush covering the streets and sidewalks. The brothers stopped on the stoop of the apartment building and almost without thinking they reached into their pea coats at the same time and pulled out their packs of cigarettes.

Murphy had just settled the filter of the cigarette between his lips and was fumbling to start his lighter with his gloved fingers when there was a sudden flash in front of him. Looking up startled, he saw Fey standing at the bottom of the stoop with a digital camera pointed at them. She was giggling hard behind the camera before taking another picture.

"Now I have record of just how ridiculous you two look," she smiled wickedly, snapping yet another picture.

Murphy glanced at Connor's face to find an identical expression of horror. But it soon gave way to an understood smirk as they bounded down the stairs two at a time. Fey seemed to catch on quickly, giving a short scream of laughter before turning on her heal and bolting for the fence gate. Much to Murphy's amusement, instead of taking the time to open the gate, Fey grab the top and vaulted over it, just barely clearing it with her long coat. She skidded slightly in the slush as she started down the sidewalk at full speed.

He and Connor were no slouches when it came to running, but Fey stayed well ahead of him. She was much more sure-footed in the snow than both of them, enough that she often glanced back at them laughing. Murphy was in awe as she jumped snow banks and brushed past a few other pedestrians like she was born to race the winter wind itself. At one point as they neared the pub, she took a huge leap over several squares of cement before turning around to look at the brothers.

They pressed on quicker, laughing in unison, even as she waved her hands in front of her and called out for them to stop. But they didn't listen, not understanding why she suddenly looked so concerned. Murphy hit the large patch of ice first, shouting out in surprise as his feet flew out behind him. After belly-flopping on the sidewalk hard enough to knock the wind out of him somewhat, he still had enough momentum to slide across the patch and end up face first at Fey's feet. He rolled over onto his back, gasping for air to fill his lungs and soon felt Fey lifting him into a sitting position.

"Are you alright," she asked hastily, sounding extremely worried as she practically cradled his head back against her shoulder, one hand planted on his chest as it heaved. Her face turned away from him and he stared at her outline against the grey sky as she said "Connor, are you hurt?"

Although reluctant to leave the warmth and comfort of being so close to Fey, Murphy sat up fully to find his brother also sitting on the ground, a pained expression on his face as he nodded. "Aye, I'm fine."

"Murphy," Fey said, making his name sound like a question. He turned to find her dark eyes filled with so much compassion and concern, he feared if he stared too long he might start to cry. She touched his cheek gingerly, making him suck in another gasp of breath, before saying almost desperately "Say something so I know you're alright."

"I hope ye didn't take a picture a that at least," he chuckled quietly, still trying to breathe normally.

Fey smiled broadly, kissing his cheek quickly. The feel of her sweet giggle against his skin made him tremble slightly. Either Fey didn't notice or didn't care, because she looked down at him and asked "Will you be okay to walk?"

"Oh, aye," he replied, nodding slightly as he started to move to his knees. "Me an' Conn 'ave taken quite a few spills in our day, haven't we, Conn?"

"No doubt of it," Connor nodded as well, having already managed to get himself standing and walking very carefully over to Murphy.

Fey stood up and helped Murphy do the same, Connor lending a hand. Once on his feet, Connor clapped a hand on his shoulder with chuckle. "Ye know, Murph, maybe we're gettin' a wee bit old ta be chasin' after girls."

"Ye may be right, Conn," Murphy nodded, glancing fleetingly at Fey, who was still smiling.

"Aw, I'm sure you guys got a few more years left in you yet," she laughed, her smile warming Murphy's whole body rather quickly. "Lucky tells me all Irishmen are born to chase skirts."

"Aye," Connor nodded, ignoring Murphy's blushing glare. "That is until we catch one what keeps us on our toes."

"And what a lucky lass she'll be," Fey laughed sweetly, making Murphy instantly want to declare his skirt-chasing days over and done with. "Now then, if you guys are good to go, the pub is waiting for us."

Connor shook his head amused and walked ahead as Fey fell back beside Murphy. She took hold of the crook of his elbow gently, smiling up at him. And Murphy, despite still being a little winded, was pleased as hell to have her on his arm.


	10. Lucky Charms

**A/N: Woo-hoo for author's notes! Finally getting around to one! I'm terrible, I know. But honestly, I've been so worried about getting chapters up for you guys that I forget to put them in. Just know, all you dear, dear readers, that Sithy loves you and is so happy that you're still with her! Hugs and Kisses and Love to you all!**

**-Sithy**

**PS - Sithy's birthday is this Saturday (Feb. 2nd)! 21st, woo-hoo! And we'll be rockin' at the Flogging Molly concert the 6th. Here's hoping I find my own Murphy there ;) **

The pub was much quieter that late morning. There were only a couple of waitresses and a woman who ran the main bar and cash register during the lunch shift. The boys from the band the night before were seated on stools, hunched over their pints. And of course, there was Lucky, seated at the far end of the bar, with a broad smile on his face as soon as Fey and the boys walked in the door.

"Fey," he practically shouted, raising his glass and immediately breaking the stillness of the place. One of the band members looked up from his glass and gave Fey a leering smile. Murphy tensed slightly at this, forgetting the soreness of his body from his recent spill, but Fey patted his arm soothingly. He glanced down at her to see her soft-looking lips tipped up in a gentle smile that made his heartbeat quicken. Without thought, he brought the back of his thumb to his lower lip and started rubbing despite the glove he had on.

"Don't tense yourself up, Murphy," she warned quietly. "That'll make it hurt worse."

He nodded, pulling off his gloves as he looked up to see Connor hastily stuffing the powder blue hat in his pocket. Fey took her coat off and hung it near the door. Murphy pulled off his own cap and saw Fey reach a hand into her bag. She had a comb halfway pulled out when she looked at him again. Smiling, she shook her head and put the comb back.

"Not tha' bad today," Murphy ventured, hoping he sounded as smug as he was trying to.

"It's horrible," she corrected, giggling as her cheeks turned pink. "But it looks cute messy, so I'll leave it for now."

Fey started walking away from him, following Connor toward Lucky, Murphy's eyes following after her slightly stunned. She thought his messy hair was cute? Well, then he'd keep it messy all the days of his life! He walked after her, both hands ruffling his hair some more and making it even worse. She glanced back at him and her smile grew ten times, causing him to stop in his tracks with his fingers still twisted in his hair.

"Stop it," she chided playfully through fits of giggles, grabbing his wrists gently and pulling his hands down. "There is such a thing as 'too' cute."

Oh, how he knew as he stared down into her eyes. Except he thought cute was too mild a word for her. Beautiful… beautiful was closer, but still not quite enough. He managed a small smile, though, and replied "What d'ye mean 'too cute?'"

"Well, hell Murphy," Fey responded lightly. "If you got any cuter, all the girls in the pub would be flocking to you."

Murphy looked around quickly, trying to hide badly his face was heating up. He scoffed gently. "What, would ye be jealous then, Fey?"

Her cheeks turned bright pink, much to Murphy's surprise. She cleared her throat and shook her head, glancing away from him. "Of course not, Murphy. Why should I be jealous? It's not like I'm your girlfriend or something."

He wanted her to be, and he wanted to tell her just that. But he couldn't say it; it was just too childish. Too much like the bumbling teenager she was turning him back into. No, he kept his mouth shut, and let himself adore her lovely face even as he smiled slightly.

"But come on, then," she smiled again, tugging at the sleeve of his coat so that he would follow her. "Tell you what, I could tell Lucky that me, you, and Connor all slept together last night, and Lucky will buy you boys a round."

Fey was laughing at her own comment, but Murphy shook his head as he stepped up beside her. "That wouldn't happen."

"And why's that," she chuckled back at him as they neared Lucky and Connor, who had made his way to the older Irishman much quicker then they had.

"Because," he began, daring to reach out and touch her shoulder. It made her stop and turn to face him. His mouth went dry as her bright eyes scanned his face. Shaking his head a little, and trying to laugh off his embarrassment he continued "There's no way in 'ell I'd share ye with me brother."

She looked like she was about to say something, but instead she smiled shyly, reaching up to straighten a few tufts of his hair. Murphy wanted to close his eyes to savor the feeling of her fingers against his skin, but knew it would seem strange and more than likely cause her to think he was some sort of lunatic.

"Ye almost done playin' hair salon over there, then," Connor called out with a chuckle from next to Lucky. "So's that we can be gettin' down ta business?"

Murphy looked up at his brother glaring. Ruining a perfectly wonderful moment with Fey could quite possibly be punishable by death or dismemberment. Maybe not that extreme, but at least worth a sound smack to the back of the head. Lucky seemed to already be aware of this, because as soon as Connor turned back to the bar, Lucky's hand shot out and swatted him.

"The fuck," Connor yelped, holding his hands up to protect himself from another assault.

Fey grabbed Murphy's hand with a rueful smile that matched his own and walked with him over to where Connor and Lucky were. The older Irishman was giving Connor a stern look and was chastising him with a small smirk.

"Why don' ye leave the two lovebirds 'lone," he chided. "They was havin' a touchin' moment, an' ye go an' ruin it with yer big Irish mouth."

Connor had put his hands down and was giving a mischievous smirk, understanding what Lucky's game was. But Murphy could feel his face heat up a few degrees as he shook his head a little and stammered "We're… we're not…"

Fey's hand fell away from his and he immediately regretted what he'd started to say. He glanced over to find her rolling her eyes sarcastically, even though she looked pink in the face.

"Please, Lucky," she scoffed weakly. "I've told you before, there's no way I could be charmed by one of you Irishmen."

That stung, it really did. Murphy slid onto the stool next to Connor, trying to hide the somewhat disappointed look on his face. The bartender had already sat two pints down in front of Connor, so Murphy grabbed one and slid it over. Lucky and Connor were still laughing over Fey's comment as she stepped up to the bar next to Murphy. He glanced up at her face, wondering if she had really meant what she'd said about Irishmen. The idea that he had absolutely no chance was very upsetting…. No, devastating. Then again, he hadn't been in any position to try charming her. He'd been drunk most of the night and that day had seen him practically falling all over himself because of her.

"Aye, lass," Lucky finally responded after taking a swallow of his pint. "I well remember ye tellin' me tha' tall tale. But what if one o' we Irishmen were ta be charmed by ye, then?"

"Well," she replied with a slightly smug smirk, looking over her shoulder to make eye contact with Murphy. "That would be a different story all together."

Murphy's eyes widened despite himself, nearly snarfing the drink he was in the middle of taking. He managed to swallow before setting the glass back down and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. She smiled at him brightly and charmed he was indeed. There was no stopping the silly grin on his face, not even the sound of his brother snickering just behind Fey.

"An' is there a specific Irishman ye had in mind, Fey," Connor asked around his bobcat grin.

"Oh, yeah," she nodded, turning around and leaning back with her elbows against the bar. "I was thinking maybe Colin Farrell."

Both brothers made disgusted faced, Connor shaking his head. "I'm quite sure he's syphilitic."

"But he's nice to look at," she countered, taking half a step away from the bar. She still looked at Connor, but her hand fell on Murphy's shoulder. "Though I'm sure there are other Irishmen I wouldn't mind waking up next to in the morning."

Murphy's eyebrows nearly hit his hairline at that one, and damned if he wasn't in the middle of another drink. He sputtered and coughed, trying to keep from choking. Drowning in Guinness, what a way for an Irishmen to go. Fey patted his back gently, and when he looked up at her, her face was all concern and no more teasing.

"Are you alright," she asked, smoothing the hair at the back of his head. Her cheeks were pink again as she smiled ruefully. "I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd…"

"I… I'm fine," he replied, shaking his head and clearing his throat. "Just wasn't expectin' tha' is all."

Her fingers were still buried in his hair, cupping the back of his neck, gentle and warm. It sent a tingle across his skin. He'd felt women run their fingers through his hair before, received pats and pets to the back of his neck for comfort, but it somewhat paled in comparison at the moment. There was something so sweet and achingly tender about the way she touched him, like she had found a weak spot and was covering it so the world could never see it.

Bowing his head slightly, Murphy looked up at her from the corners of his eyes. Her face softened, concern there replaced with something Murphy couldn't quite name. Her lips parted ever so slightly, making them look all the more full and inviting. Christ, how he wanted to kiss them; wanted to brush his fingers over her face and find out what she tasted like. No doubt something sweet and intoxicating. It was all he could do not to lean up and steal a kiss from her.

Fey's hand slid out of his hair to pat his back again, a smile spreading her lips once more. "Well, at least you didn't choke to death. Poor Connor would have had to explain to everyone how his twin managed to drown in a pint of Guinness."

"T'would be a 'ell o' a way ta go, lad," Lucky chuckled, taking another sip from his glass.

Connor added, "They'd be makin' fun a 'im fer years after, sayin' he just couldn't hold his Stout."

"Ah, shut it, ye git," Murphy retorted, throwing some pretzels at his brother's face.

Fey covered her mouth with her fingers as she started to giggle. "Settle down, fellas. And play nice."

"And I'd prefer if you didn't start food fights in my pub," came a male voice from behind them.

Connor and Murphy turned around just as Fey smiled. "Mr. Haloran! How are you?"

"Happy belated birthday, Fey," the older man chuckled jovially, grabbing her up in a bear hug.

"Oi," Connor said, sounding confused. "This is Mr. Haloran?"

The man chuckled again. "Thought I'd sound more Irish, didn't you?"

Both brothers nodded slowly, causing Mr. Haloran to laugh louder. "Don't worry boys, I get that a lot. My mother and father came over from Ireland when they were both little. Didn't have much use for an Irish accent growing up, so I don't use it now."

"Mr. Haloran, this is Connor and Murphy," Fey said brightly. "The guys I told you about last night."

"Ah, I remember," he smiled, looking at each of the brothers. "You didn't give our Fey any trouble, did you?"

Before they could answer, Fey shook her head "No more than I could handle."

She elbowed Murphy gently, giving him a smile which he easily reciprocated. Haloran shook his head in amusement, putting a hand on Murphy's shoulder. "Well, I hope she didn't give you boys too much trouble."

"No more than we could handle," Murphy grinned and elbowed Fey back, who gave a gentle giggle.

"So, Mr. Haloran," Connor began, giving Fey and Murphy a mischievous smirk. "Have ye found a place fer me an' me twit o' a brother ta stay?"

"Not a damn thing," Haloran shook his head. "So I suppose you'll have to stay with Fey a while longer, until something opens up."

"Never knew St. Louis would be so crowded," Murphy mumbled, hoping Fey didn't take it the wrong way.

"Well, the Mardi Gras celebration started here last Saturday," Haloran informed. "The place is always full up this time of year. You guys certainly know how to make travel arrangements."

"The visit wasn't really planned out all that well," Connor smirked. "But Fey here seems ta be our very own Godsend, right Murph?"

"Aye," Murphy replied, practically sighed, glancing over at Fey with a slight smile. Her smile had faded some, and it made his disappear entirely.

"Mr. Haloran," she asked quietly. "Why were Valenti and the Boys from the Hill here last night?"

"Ah, Fey," Haloran shook his head, this time looking slightly upset. "Did Valenti try something last night?"

Murphy felt his whole body tense at the sound of the name, but he kept his curse-filled comments to himself for a change as Fey shook her head. "Don't get off track. Why were they here?"

"I can't lie to you, Fey," he sighed. "They want to buy the place up. Apparently, they and their higher-ups want to expand from the Hill."

Fey's face was utter shock, and Murphy placed a hand on her shoulder on instinct. "This far out? How many people are they trying to buy from?"

"Just us it seems," Haloran replied. "This is a prime spot. Told me they wanted some place closer to downtown, where all the good traffic is."

"Fuck," she whispered sadly under her breath.

Murphy tightened his hand just a little on her shoulder, and to his surprise, she brought her hand up and laced her fingers with his.


	11. Breathless

After finishing their pints, the brothers offered to give Fey a ride to work. Murphy automatically got in the front seat, but after they started driving, he wished he had sat in the back with Fey. She had been so very quiet since Mr. Haloran had told them about Valenti and his trying to buy the pub. Mr. Haloran had assured her that there would be no selling, but Murphy and Connor, though remaining silent, knew that there was no real guarantee. From the look on Fey's face, she knew it too. She sat leaning against the door, face turned to stare blankly out the window.

And Murphy hated it. He hated anything or anyone that could make such a sweet and beautiful face as hers looked so sad and hurt. He wanted to go kill the bastards right then. No waiting for an opportune time, no settling in to learn the lay of the city. Just waltz right up and put a bullet in each and every lowlife's brain so that Fey would smile again. Pausing in his thought a moment, Murphy realized just how strange it was to feel that way after only knowing a girl for less than a whole day. But he knew he couldn't help it, and he knew he didn't want to.

"Fey," he managed to say gently as he watched her over the back of the seat he was twisted in, seatbelt biting uncomfortably into his hip. "Will ye be alright, darlin'?"

She looked over at him with a weak smile, eyes shiny with unshed tears. "Yeah, Murphy. I'll be fine."

Before he could lose his courage, he reached back and gingerly put his hand on her leg just above her knee, trying to send her some comfort. Fey didn't flinch or seem startled. She just looked at his hand for a second before touching his "aequitas" tattoo, fingertips brushing gently over the word. The sensation left him nearly breathless, almost intoxicated, as if he'd had more than just the one pint at McGurk's. Without thought, his thumb slowly slid back and forth across her thigh. Her warm, soft fingers slid over his hand as if trying to make sure it stayed there while she looked up into his eyes. The expression he saw there, one of pure vulnerability, made his heart ache terribly. It was by sheer willpower alone that he didn't unbuckle his seatbelt and crawl into the back to comfort her.

"Ye know, Fey," Connor said suddenly, startling Murphy and breaking the hold Fey's eyes had on him. "Ye shouldn't be too worried about it. Haloran says he's not goin' ta sell, then there's really no problem, aye?"

"Valenti and the Boys from the Hill always get what they want," she sighed, shaking her head to look back out the window.

"They don't 'ave ye, Fey," Murphy retorted quietly, ignoring the half-amused glance that Connor gave him.

Her eyes widened just a little bit as she turned to look at him again, and Murphy was surprised as hell by the smirk that spread itself across her lips. "The deed to that pub is far more accessible than what's underneath these clothes. Besides, that place would be much more profitable."

"What d'ye mean," Connor had the sense to ask, since Murphy was turning bright red over the idea of what was beneath Fey's clothes.

"Like Mr. Haloran said," Fey sighed, the smirk leaving her slightly. "The area where the pub is at sees a lot of traffic; and I don't just mean vehicles and pedestrians. Drug trafficking is big right around there. If Valenti and his goons have that place, they could be distributing drugs and making profits off the whole city hand over fist. As big of a hub that St. Louis is in the drug trade, that area is a primo spot."

"How d'ye know so much about things like tha'," Murphy asked astonished. He honestly couldn't peg Fey for a druggie.

"My parents were potheads," she shrugged, glancing out the windshield. "Connor, take this next exit and go right. Then take the very first left you come to."

Connor nodded in understanding, but Murphy was not letting her change the subject so easily. "Potheads?"

"Yeah," Fey nodded. "They did a lot of pot, which surprisingly did not make them mellow. In fact, they were exceptionally uptight and overbearing. But the point is, they knew a whole lot about the stuff that goes on in the city and were not above letting me in on it."

"An' ye never went to the police with it," Connor asked.

"No, why would I," Fey replied with a bit of surprise. "The police can't do shit to stop it except take in a few random people who are high. If they get anywhere close to the people who actually orchestrate the acts, they either end up dead or on the payroll. And I for one have no interest in seeing another cop corrupted, or another good cop dead."

Murphy was shocked beyond measure and hoped it didn't show on his face. Here he had figured Fey to be a sweet girl that most assuredly would be naïve to the seedy side of the world he and his brother were so used to. Wholly sweet she was, for sure, but he could no longer think of her as completely naïve. And in a way, it was comforting. She had seen darkness and come out surprisingly unscathed. It meant there was hope, and an inch of hope can go a long way.

As he was contemplating this, he felt it start to happen. Face souring, Murphy sat back down in his seat properly. His guts were churning horribly, feeling the pressure building up inside him. Fucking lactose intolerance, rearing its ugly, smelly head at the worst times! He squinted his eyes, trying to concentrate on not letting out the horrible amount of gas filling that was filling him.

Suddenly, Fey was leaning her head over the front seat, her hand touching his forehead as if checking for a fever. "Murphy, are you alright?"

Murphy nodded and caught Connor's horrified expression. "I'm alright, darlin'."

"Christ, he's goin' ta blow," Connor shouted with a chuckle. "Quick, Fey. Roll down the windows."

"Fuck ye, Connor," Murphy growled, seeing Fey's face in the rearview mirror as her eyes widened and she started to giggle, sitting back in her seat. "Just pull over a'right. Let me out a the damned car."

"There's no place ta pull over," Connor informed, cranking his window down. "An' by the looks a ye, ye won't make it ta the library."

"Fuck me," Murphy muttered as the pressure started to become unbearable pain. The idea crossed his mind that he might just explode from it. But he heard a sound then that could only be that of flatulence at its finest.

Connor gave him a questioning look, but Murphy could only shake his head in confusion. Then both their eyes widened as they looked in the back seat. Fey was sitting there red-faced with eyes wide, trying to muffle her giggles behind her hand. Murphy's jaw dropped slightly, even as a grin spread his face.

"I'm sorry guys," Fey managed to say through her fingers, looking miserably embarrassed. Yet, as soon as she started to relax, another one ripped out of her. Horrified, but still giggling, she clasped her hands over her mouth again, as if that was the origin of the sound.

Murphy broke out into uproarious laughter, his brother not too far behind. In fact, he was laughing so hard that tears started to stream down his cheeks and Connor began to swerve on the road a bit. Fey's bright red face finally came out from behind her hands as she curled forward, trying to control herself. Then, Murphy couldn't hold back anymore and let himself go.

"Jaysus Christ on a crutch," Connor boomed in laughter at how loud Murphy's farting was. Fey had started laughing again so hard that she was close to hyperventilating.

"Can't breathe, can't breathe," she giggled, holding her sides and trying to take deep breaths.

"That makes the two a us," Connor laughed, trying his best to keep the car under control and on the road.

Murphy was red-faced himself, with laughter and embarrassment. His laughing gradually decreased as the pressure was let off of him. Then, Fey's face was leaning up over the front seat again. And before he knew what was going on, Murphy felt Fey's soft, sweet lips pressing against his cheek as she giggled. He stilled instantly, hardly able to breathe as his eyes widened a little. Turning his face quickly, he felt his nose brush against hers, making his face heat up even more to match the pink of her cheeks.

"There," Fey smiled brightly, making his heart want to stop and those butterflies dance around. "Now doesn't that feel better."

"Aye, it does," he whispered quietly, still staring into her eyes.

Her smile got impossibly brighter and she leaned a little closer and brushed the tip of her nose quickly back and forth against his. Then she sat back, leaving Murphy's mouth hanging open like an idiot. Eskimo kisses?! He hadn't had an Eskimo kiss since he was a kid. It was adorable; she was just too fucking adorable. So much so that it might have made the average person almost sick. But not Murphy. Oh no, he honestly loved it, no matter how taken aback by it he was.

Connor finally pulled into the library's parking lot, stopping right outside the doors. He glanced back at Fey with a smirk. "Ye sure ye won't be needin' a ride home?"

"I have one, but thanks," she smiled at him and Murphy. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a key chain and started taking one of the keys off. "Here, you'll be needing this to get back in the apartment."

"Honestly, Fey," Connor replied, giving Murphy a quick glance. "We can find ourselves some place ta stay while we're 'ere. We don't want ta over-stay yer kind welcome."

"Nonsense," she scolded gently, reaching over to take Murphy's hand and setting the key in his palm. With a soft smile, she closed his fingers around the key and let his hand go. "My welcome is unlimited. But if it makes you feel better, I'll let you guys go when there's a place nearby me that opens up. Not until then. There isn't a place in the city that isn't some kind of dangerous, and I'd rather have you in a dangerous place where I can keep an eye on you."

"That's right kind a ye, Fey," Murphy managed to say as his eyes scanned the curves of her smiling face.

"Someone needs to watch out for you guys," Fey giggled. Then she opened the car door and climbed out. "See you guys when I get home tonight."

Halfway on her trek to the doors, she turned to wave at them. Both brothers, in that almost scary-perfect unison that twins sometimes had, raised their hands in salute. Once she had disappeared into the building, Murphy turned his eyes to his closed fist. He opened his fingers slowly, knowing it was overly dramatic but still unable to stop himself. The key to Fey's apartment; he couldn't remember ever having the key to any woman's apartment before. Any other time it might have scared the shite out of him, but under the circumstances…

"Ye've found yerself a good lass there, Murph ole boyo," Connor chuckled, backhanding Murphy's chest with a chuckle.

"Shut it, Conn. She ain't me girl," Murphy retorted weakly before sliding down in his seat a bit.

"Ye'll have 'er, Murph," Connor reassured with a knowing smile as he drove back to the highway. "That is, if ye can take yer foot from out yer mouth long enough ta make a full sentence 'round 'er."

"Fuck ye," Murphy snarled, rolling his eyes to look out the window. "I'm just fine talkin' 'round 'er."

"Oh, don't go lyin' ta Connor, now," he shook his head, still smiling. "She takes yer fuckin' breath away. I see it every time an' it makes ye a bumblin' fool. Fer the life a me, I can't tell why she likes ye so much."

"Ah, can yer shite, Connor," Murphy roared, his cheeks starting to flame red. "I don' need it."

"Listen, Murph, I'm not teasin' ye," Connor retorted calmly, before a tad of a smirk crossed his lips. "Though there's plenty ta tease ye fer."

Murphy scowled and turned his eyes back out of the window to watch the street passing by. He heard Connor cluck his tongue before saying "No, Murph, I mean it. I think Fey really does like ye. I've caught 'er lookin' at ye when ye weren't…"

But Murphy wasn't paying attention. Something had caught his eye down one of the alleys as they passed. Reaching a hand to tap his brother's shoulder frantically, he said "Connor, stop the car! Stop the car!"

Without hesitation, Connor did so, pulling over quickly and throwing the car into park. "What is it, Murph?"

Murphy was already halfway out the passenger door and Connor quickly followed suit. Over the roof of the car, Murphy replied "There's a man got a woman at knife-point down that alley back there."

Connor glanced in that direction, shaking his head as he met Murphy at the trunk of the car. Giving quick glances around to check for any bystanders, and finding themselves adequately alone, they opened the trunk and started going through their bags for weapons.

"One whole day 'ere an' we're already runnin' inta evil," Connor grumbled. "Sometimes I think business is too good."

"Aye," Murphy nodded, pulling on his ski mask. "But there's about to be one less evil man in the world."

With that, they both loaded their guns and headed back for the alley.


	12. Heart Attack

Connor and Murphy had driven around for a while, trying to get themselves slightly better acquainted with the city. Neither of them had an outstanding sense of direction, but at least there were several highly visible points of reference, namely the huge red Budweiser sign, the brewery, and several bars they had passed. After a few hours and a stop at a rather dingy fast food restaurant called White Castle, they headed back to Fey's apartment.

Murphy had the express pleasure of being the one to unlock the door with the key Fey had given them. Connor teased him about looking so smug about it, but that didn't wipe the grin of Murphy's face as he sat the key down on the counter. It was then that both brothers realized something that they hadn't thought of before. They had no idea what they could do to kill time in Fey's home. They didn't want to go rummaging through things, and they didn't want to go down to the pub in case Fey should come back home and need to get in. So, they resigned themselves to walking around the main room somewhat aimlessly, Connor checking out the movies in on of the glass-doored cabinets as Murphy skimmed the spines of all the books.

There were loads of wonderful novels on the shelves, but Murphy couldn't see a particular one he felt like reading at the moment. He gently moved aside a stack of books on top of the case to check the ones behind it when he saw the name Shakespeare. Reaching back to pull it out, he saw a bit of yarn sticking out from under it. Confused, he started to pull on it when he was interrupted by Connor chuckling.

"Would ye look at the movies they've got," he laughed, motioning for Murphy to join him in front of the cabinet. When his brother joined him, Connor started reading off some titles. "The Punisher, A Knight's Tale, Hellboy, Star Wars, Fight Club, The Princess Bride… and fuckin' 'ell Death Wish an' Clint Eastwood movies! She's all over the place with 'er movies."

"Aye," Murphy laughed, though he had to admit it was an impressive collection, many more than what Connor had named, all sorts of different genres.

"An' look here," Connor continued on, looking at a higher shelf. He paused for a second before his eyes widened in shock. "Holy Christ!"

Murphy was confused at his brother's sudden outburst and pushed him aside, expecting to see something completely terrifying. Instead, he saw a framed picture of Fey and another girl with curly, dark auburn hair, blue-green eyes and a few freckles across her nose. Both Fey and the girl had on caps and gowns with their arms thrown across each others' shoulders. In the top corner of the frame nearest Fey was a small embossed card that said "Fey Morgana Fitzpatrick" and in the diagonal corner, another card saying "Laura Sarah Teagan," presumably the other girl in the picture.

"The fuck is wrong with ye," Murphy barked, turning on his brother. "Ye nearly give me a heart attack over a picture o' a girl?"

"Don't ye see it Murph," Connor replied, shaking his head a little, though he had calmed down from his outburst well enough. "That other girl, the one with Fey in the picture. The eyes Murph, and the name…"

It dawned on Murphy suddenly, and he had to fight back his wail of laughter. Instead, it came out as a bit of a snicker as he looked at the picture again. He remembered that he wasn't the only one with a crush back when they were younger. Not long after Maire had left on extended leave from the library, the brothers had gotten back to their normal routine of terrorizing the neighborhood and wreaking havoc in the class room with their clownish ways. In another ingenious attempt to subdue the wildness of the twins, the school had decided to hire a special tutor from a neighboring town to help make sure they got all their work done and keep them in check. She was a very pretty girl in her late twenties with dark brown hair clipped short and a pair of very pretty blue-green eyes whose name had been Teagan O'Grady.

Connor had been smitten the moment he laid eyes on her, that being the only reason he stopped making fun of Murphy over his librarian. He had become too preoccupied with their new tutor to care about much else. Miss O'Grady, as she had them call her when they were doing homework, was a nice woman who was mathematically inclined just as Connor had been. Murphy was no slouch in the area, but he preferred the written word just as Connor, for all his knowledge of literature, would rather have a math equation in front of him. But by the time summer rolled around, Teagan O'Grady had gotten a job at a university in London, England, and left the boys to pursue her teaching career.

And the girl in the picture beside Fey had the same color eyes and the same name, well, sort of. After thinking on it a second, Murphy couldn't hold the laughter back any longer and let fly with it. "Ah, Conn! Maybe ye'll have yer girl now!"

He had to duck the fist Connor threw at him, but it didn't stop his laughter. Grabbing Connor's waist, Murphy tried throwing him to the floor. But Connor held his place, giving vicious swats to his brother's back as Murphy gave him several jabs to the sides. It wasn't anything too painful, actually a common occurrence between the two of them. What wasn't common was someone walking through the door and catching them.

"What are you guys doing," Fey asked as she pulled off her coat and hung it up. Both brothers looked up from their awkward positions to find her giving them an amused smile. "Not killing each other in the living room, I hope."

"No, course not," Murphy replied, hoping he wasn't blushing as he pushed away from Connor to stand up, straightening his shirt and ruffling his hair. "Just a little brotherly spat is all."

"Okay then," she smiled brightly, heading for the kitchen. "Any idea what you guys want for dinner?"

"We ate out a bit ago, thanks," Connor replied, even though Murphy glared at him. They both knew they were hungry again, but Connor had a way of graciously refusing a person's hospitality until they absolutely insisted. It was one of his apparently charming ways which attracted girls to him.

Fey lifted a skeptical eyebrow and turned her smile to Murphy. "Are you hungry, Murphy?"

Murphy smiled ruefully, bringing his hand up so he could nibble on his thumb nail. "A bit."

"Good," Fey giggled sweetly. "Then we'll eat and if Connor gets hungry later, he can have leftovers."

Smiling broadly, Murphy looked back to find Connor grumbling about not eating leftovers if he could help it. All three went into the kitchen area as Fey started going through cabinets and the fridge.

"There's not a lot to choose from guys," she said, sounding slightly upset by the fact. Murphy got the feeling that she enjoyed being a hostess and didn't like the idea that she couldn't be a perfect one. "I could make pigs-in-a-blanket or some toasted ravioli… Oh, we have pork steaks I could cook up…"

"I'm not goin' ta lie, Fey," Murphy said, shaking his head slightly as Connor tried to suppress a grin. "I have no idea what ye're talkin' about."

Fey's eyes widened a little, but she started giggling. "I thought you said you came in from Chicago. I know they have those foods there."

He shifted a little on his feet. "We didn't go out much."

"Alright," Fey smiled, patting his shoulder and making him smile as well. "They're all real Midwest foods. Since you've never had them, I'll make them all. 'Cause despite what Connor may think my leftovers are always good."

She looked positively smug about it, which Murphy found surprisingly attractive, especially when it broke into another bright smile and soft giggle. Fey started pulling everything out of the freezer and fridge and piling it on the counter. Then, she turned to the brothers.

"Alright, boys," she said, taking on a motherly tone. "Since you're both eating, I'm going to need some help. Connor, will you turn the oven on and set it at 350 degrees, please, and pull out a few pans from the cabinet next to it. And Murphy I'm going to show you how to make the pigs in a blanket while I cook the pork steaks."

Both brothers nodded, both used to being ordered about by women in a kitchen even if it had been many years since the last time it had happened. Connor turned to the oven and Murphy stepped up to Fey's side at the counter. She had sprawled out a package of hotdogs, a can of pre-made croissant dough, and a block of Velveeta processed cheese. With a smile, she handed him the can of dough as she opened the hotdogs. Murphy peeled at the cardboard to no avail. He and Connor had tried to make a can of biscuits once before as a breakfast treat, but they never could opened the can properly. They had resorted to chopping the thing in half and practically squeezing the biscuits out.

It looked like he'd have to do the same this time when Fey glanced over at him and giggled. "Here, let me have that."

Murphy handed it over and watched as Fey grabbed the end, tapping the side of it swiftly on the edge of the counter. It popped open like magic, Murphy greatly chagrined. But Fey just smiled and handed the can back. "Now separate the croissants and spread them flat, like this."

She showed him how to do it, him following suit with the others as she took out a pairing knife and sliced a hotdog cleaning down the middle. Then she sliced a length of the Velveeta and stuck it in the sliced hotdog before rolling it all up in the dough. "Think you could do that?"

"Aye," he smiled, having enjoyed watching her do such a simple little task.

She left the counter for a moment to tell Connor how to spread the toasted ravioli on one of the pans before popping it in the oven. Returning with another pan, Murphy felt Fey lean up to look over his shoulder. Her body pressed softly against his side, and he knew the action was innocent enough, sweet, but it sent a tingle through him. He could feel the heat of her through both their shirts and it added to the blush that crossed his face.

"You're doing a great job, Murphy," she beamed, and he nodded, trying to keep her from seeing how red his face was. "When you finish, go ahead and put them on this pan; cheese side up, if you please. That makes for less of a mess."

Murphy nodded again to show he understood before Fey went to fry up the pork steaks. Once she wasn't so close to him, he was able to breathe again. But sooner than expected, all the food was done and laid out on the table, ready to eat. Fey had put out marinara sauce for the toasted ravioli and some tangy barbecue sauce for the pork steak. Both boys enjoyed the ravioli, but Connor had seconds on the pork steak whereas Murphy liked the pigs-in-a-blanket better. It seemed that Fey did too, because twice while reaching for another, their hands brushed together, making Murphy look away and glare at a grinning Connor in warning.

"So, what did you guys do this afternoon," Fey finally asked with a big smile as she ate one of the toasted ravioli dipped in sauce.

Connor and Murphy glanced at each other over the table before Murphy sat back to let Connor do the explaining. "We just drove around a bit, tryin' ta get acquainted with the city."

Fey nodded in understanding. "Did you guys pass all the cops on your way out?"

"What," Murphy asked, trying to sound confused.

"Someone was shot a few blocks from the library this afternoon," Fey replied, shaking her head. "Apparently, he had been assaulting this woman, about to rape her, but someone shot the guy to save her. A couple masked men, the cops say. Bastard deserved it, if you ask me."

"Where did ye hear that from," Connor asked as he shared a concerned glance with Murphy. "Don't the cops normally take a while ta release tha' sort a information, or some shite like tha'?"

"Yeah, to the media maybe," Fey shrugged, taking another ravioli. "But some of the cops on the scene frequent McGurk's and are friends of mine. They could get in trouble for telling me, but they know I won't go to the press with it or anything."

"Ye've got connections all over then, have ye, Fey," Connor asked.

Murphy's eyes widened as he looked at his brother. He knew the thought that had crossed Connor's mind and he didn't like it one bit. People who had connections and tried using them to help the brothers in their Calling always ended up getting hurt or killed. Murphy didn't want Fey thrown into that. Connor gave him a reassuring look and Murphy tried to hide his sigh of relief.

"I've made lots of friends all over the place," Fey replied to Connor. "Up here where lots of people think I'm a saint or something because I don't do drugs and all that, and some in the boondocks of Pevely where people think I'm some bad-ass chick because I live in the city."

She started to get up, grabbing her plate from the table, when Murphy couldn't control his mouth any more as he said "And which are ye, really?"

"Maybe a little of both," she giggled, making him smile.

Fey had just gotten her plate to the sink, the brothers not too far behind with theirs, when the phone rang. She went over to answer it with a cheerful hello, before pausing to listen. Murphy was surprised to see her smile fade a bit. Her eyes met his for a split second before she turned away to hide the phone receiver cradled to her face. There was a short, whispered exchange, then Fey hung up the phone and turned back to the brothers with a smile.

"Is everything alright," Murphy asked her, concern etching his face.

"Yeah," Fey nodded, straightening her shirt. "That was just a friend of mine. She needs me to come over to watch her little ones while she goes out. Just leave the dishes in the sink and I'll do them tomorrow."

"Ah, we'll take care a these fer ye," Connor assured as he looked around for the dish soap.

Murphy wasn't convinced with Fey's answer in the slightest. "Would ye like me ta come with ye? I'm pretty good with kids."

Connor gave an amused snort from the sink. "Aye, that's 'cause he still is one."

Fey shook her head, still smiling as she patted Murphy on the shoulder in appreciation. "Thanks, Murphy, but it might be late before I get home. You and Connor stay here and watch a movie or something. Help yourself to dessert in the freezer, and thank you Connor for doing the dishes."

He waved a salute from the sink as he started running the water. Murphy walked Fey over to the door, watching as she put on her coat and hat. "Ye sure ye don't want some company watchin' the rascals?"

"I'm positive, Murphy," she answered, giving him another huge grin before she walked out the door.


	13. All's Fair

-1**A/N: Hey guys! Thanks for sticking with me so far! Hopefully this chapter won't disappoint. It's probably something you've all come to expect from me by now. It may be another week before I get to another chapter because I have some terrific news! Sithy is going to a film festival at the end of March to see a screening of a Norman Reedus movies called "The BeatNicks" and I will most assuredly get to meet Mr. Reedus in person! insert big fan girl squee! I'm so excited!**

**Big hugs, Sithy**

Murphy woke up to a soft tapping on his bare shoulder. His eyes fluttered open and he could see Connor's sleeping face beside him on the mattress, lit up with the bluish-gray light of early morning. Murphy recoiled when Connor gave a particularly loud snore before rolling over. Giving a soft grumble, Murphy rolled onto his back to find Fey leaning over him with a gentle smile. He blinked and wondered how she could possibly be up that early.

She had left the night before right after dinner, claiming to have to watch a friend's children. He and Connor had lounged around for a while, watching a movie and daring to grab some ice cream from the freezer. They tried waiting up for her, but as the night dragged on they just couldn't keep their eyes open. Both brothers decided to call it a night, reasoning that Fey was old enough to come home whenever she saw fit. But Murphy had stayed awake in bed even longer, still a little worried about her.

Yet there she was, bright and early in the morning, looking fresh-faced and absolutely beautiful in the morning light. Murphy rubbed his eyes sleepily to make sure he was actually awake and not dreaming her smiling at him. Stretching a little with a yawn, he propped himself up on his elbows and gave her a concerned look. "Ye alright, darlin'?"

"I'm fine," she giggled sweetly, his skin warming instantly with just that sound. "I wanted to know if you wanted to go outside and play in the snow with me."

The offer was too good to pass up. With a sleepy grin, Murphy nodded. "Aye, I'd love ta."

"Alright," Fey replied triumphantly. "You get dressed while I get Connor up."

She started to lean over him to reach Connor, but without thinking Murphy grabbed her shoulder gently to stop her. Her eyes turned to his questioningly and he did his best not to blush. The way they were positioned put their faces only inches from each other, Murphy trying not to stare at her full, soft lips too intently.

"Why don't ye let Connor sleep," he said softly, locking eyes with her. "He doesn't like snow all tha' much anyway."

The smirk she gave him sent a shiver over his skin. "Okay, but dress warm, Murph. It's very chilly out there this morning and I don't want you getting sick on me. I'll get you a little something for breakfast."

Murphy grinned as he watched her stand and head for the kitchen area. She was in jeans and a black sweater, and he never knew that such a simple combination could look that lovely on anyone. And he adored the way her plain ponytail bounced back and forth as she moved. With a quiet sigh, he cautiously got off the mattress so as not to wake his brother. He pulled on his sweater and boots before heading to the bathroom. When he emerged, Fey was standing there holding a cinnamon roll out to him. He took it gladly and nearly stuffed the whole thing in his mouth, letting out a grunt when he realized it was entirely too hot to have done that.

"Goodness, Murphy," she gasped, reaching a hand toward him as though it would help ease the pain. "Are you alright?"

"Mm-hmm," he nodded quickly, opening his mouth to suck in air to cool the food down.

Fey started fanning her hand in front of his open mouth to help, looking like it took all her strength not to laugh at the situation. Murphy finally got the bite chewed and swallowed, giving Fey a half-hearted grin. "My, that was delicious."

She burst out giggling, covering her mouth to muffle the sound as she glanced back at a still-sleeping Connor. With a smile, she tugged his sweater a little. "Get a drink of water and get your hat and coat on."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied with a soft chuckle.

Fey smirked and went over to the coat rack. Murphy quickly did as directed before joining her there. Tugging his pea coat on, he pulled out his dark purple cap which seemed to make Fey giggled.

"You really like that hat, don't you," she smiled, putting on her coat as well.

"Aye, I love it," he grinned smugly as he pulled it down on his head. "Keeps me head nice and an' warm. Plus, it covers up me unruly hair."

She giggled again and Murphy was pleased he had caused it. Fey quickly found another pair of gloves for Murphy so his hands wouldn't get cold in the snow, then they headed out. She led him to the back of the apartment complex where the snow had remained untouched. The air outside had a refreshing bite to it, and Murphy sucked in a good lungful of it, letting it out with a light sigh.

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day," Fey said quietly, though she gave the word summer a sarcastic edge.

Murphy responded automatically "Thou art more lovely an' more temperate."

Fey's eyes widened as she looked up at him with a smile. "You know Shakespeare, Murphy?"

"Aye, the Bard's one a me favorites," he replied. The look of pure astonishment and happiness that lit up her face was too much for Murphy to handle. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy it, in fact he thought it was the loveliest expression he'd seen on anyone's face, but he knew if he looked at it for too long he'd do something brash, like grab her up and kiss her until they both passed out from lack of oxygen. So, to keep from making a further ass of himself, Murphy stepped a few feet into the thick snow before turning back. "Now, what should we do with all this 'ere snow we've got ta play with?"

"It's good packing snow," Fey responded, coming up to his side. Her eyes lit up like she had an idea. "How about we make a couple snowmen?"

"Snowmen," Murphy chuckled as he looked at her fondly. "Tha' sounds good. But we'll make 'em snow Irishmen, if ye please."

"That'll make it even easier," she replied with a snicker. "We'll just have to roll three balls of snow together on the ground, won't even have to worry about eyes, nose, and mouth. All you Irishmen end up flat on your face anyway."

Murphy gave her a look of mock indignation. "I'll have ye know that a true Irishmen doesn't fall flat on 'is face… 'e jus' starts leanin' against things very heavily."

"Really," she replied, raising an eyebrow and trying to hide her smile. "Well, you make Connor and I'll make you."

"Now, tha' hardly seems fair," he pretended to pout. "Why would I want ta make me fuckwit brother?"

"Murphy," Fey squawked in warning.

He just gave her a big grin. "Alright, I'll set ta work on me brother. But ye take care in gettin' me right. I have ta look the better a the two."

Fey rolled her eyes with a chuckle before they both started rolling up snow. It was a long and tedious job, both laughing as they got all the snow stood up. Murphy went to a nearby tree and started breaking off branches for the arms while Fey went to the supply closet and grabbed some charcoal briquettes she had stored for summer barbecuing. They made the eyes and smiles for the snowmen with the charcoal.

"I don't have any carrots for the noses," Fey said sounding disappointed.

"What a shame," Murphy shook his head and dared to wrap an arm around her shoulder as they admired their work.

She didn't flinch or fidget uncomfortably, which Murphy took as a good sign. Even better was that she seemed to lean into him, making his breath catch just a little. "But unlike you and your brother, these snowmen look exactly the same. How will we tell them apart?"

"Well, Conn'll be the one with the stupid look on 'is face," Murphy replied matter-of-factly. "Like in real life."

He could only giggle when she swatted him playfully. "That's your brother you're talking about."

"I know, I know," he grinned sheepishly.

Fey looked at him for a long moment, seeming lost in thought. The gaze was somewhat unnerving for Murphy. He felt like he was being scrutinized, not harshly, but with great intent. To his surprise, she gave a huge grin. "I've got it!"

Reaching into the bag of briquettes, she pulled two out and beat them together. A few chunks fell off one and she took those and stuck them on the snowman she had made. Murphy realized what she was doing and raised a hand to cover his face.

"Ah, no," he grumbled. "Not the moles!"

"But they're absolutely precious, Murphy," she giggled, taking his wrist and pulling his hand from his face. He looked down into her eyes and saw something there that made his mouth go dry.

Licking his lips, he rolled his eyes and hoped it helped stop his blushing. "Kids used ta make fun a me fer 'em back in school."

"Well that's just ridiculous," she shook her head, turning back to her snowman to fix the face up properly. "They're nice beauty marks."

"Beauty marks," he snorted sarcastically, packing some more onto his snowman.

"Handsome marks," she corrected. He watched as she glanced at him over her shoulder, her cheeks blushing as she gave a shy smile. "Hottie marks."

Murphy's eyes widened and he thought he might fall down with how weak his legs just turned. She thought he was handsome? Hot? How could such a lovely creature think such things about him? And she was blushing about it too! He knew he was grinning stupidly, so he kept his back turned to her, pretending to be preoccupied with his snowman.

"Hey, Murphy," Fey questioned sweetly, with a laughing lilt to her voice.

"Aye," he replied loudly so he wouldn't have to turn around and reveal his smile.

"Does your mouth still burn from eating that cinnamon roll," she asked.

"Yeah," he answered; the question strange enough to make him turn around to look at her.

A huge snowball caught him right in the side of the face as he was turning, obviously meant to hit the back of his head. Fey was laughing hard as Murphy wiped the melting snow from his cheek. Then his eyes turned to her with a playful glare and she shrieked as he quickly knelt and started gathering up snow. She tried to make another snowball, but Murphy was quicker. Her hands came up, trying to block it, but it caught her in the side. She gave him a slight glare that made him laugh.

"Ye started it," he reminded.

Fey could barely hide her smile as she responded. "And I'll be the one to finish it."

And a snow war began between them, both howling with laughter as they pelted each other with snowballs. Sometimes they just through handfuls of the more powdery snow at each others faces and hoping that it hit the target. They started getting closer and closer as they threw snow. At one point, Fey filled her hands with snow and ran up to Murphy while he was crouched to make another snowball, dumping the snow all over the top of his head before he could move. With a sinister laugh, he stood and grabbed hold of her around the waist.

Fey made a sound that was halfway between a giggle and a scream, twisting and squirming in Murphy's grasp as he said in a playful, booming voice "Got ye now, lass!"

But she kept struggling and ended up knocking them both down in the snow, Murphy on his back with her sprawled over him. She was giggling wildly, trying to get up, but he pulled her back down to him with a chuckle and flipped them both so that he was pinning her down in the snow.

Before he knew what he was doing, Murphy had pressed his lips over Fey's, stopping her giggles. Her lips parted ever-so-slightly, and Murphy couldn't stop his eyes from closing or his head from tilting to seal the kiss tighter. All he could breathe in was her scent through his nose which made his heart pound even harder, so hard it ached in his chest. He pressed closer to her, reveling in the warmth of her closeness, in the taste and the softness of her lips. It was like being drunk without the liquor or the possibility of being nauseous.

It felt almost like a lifetime when a few seconds later Fey twisted her face away, breathing warm and heavy against Murphy's cheek. He tried catching his breath as well, staring at the snow beside Fey's face because he didn't want her to see how flustered he was.

"Murphy," she asked just loud enough to overcome the sound of blood rushing through his ears.

"Aye, love," he whispered, finally leaning up to look into her eyes.

"You're on my leg."

Murphy was certain his face was about to burst into flames from the embarrassment. He scrambled away from her, muttering curses and apologies as he got to his feet, brushing the snow off his jeans. His face was still bright red when he glanced down at Fey, who had a shy smile and didn't look like she could meet his eyes.

"Christ, Fey, I shouldn't a done tha'," he mumbled.

She finally looked at him and he realized her cheeks were a beautiful shade of pink. Her hand reached out to him, as if asking for help and without hesitation he took it and pulled her up. Once she was on her feet and before Murphy could try to step away in his apologetic nervousness, Fey clasped his hand tighter.

"I've only known you a couple days, Murphy," she said quietly. When he nodded sheepishly, her hand touched his cheek forcing him to look up at her soft smile. "But you're a very good kisser."

He was astonished when she leaned up and pressed her lips softly against his. It was a sweet, quick kiss that ended entirely too quickly, but it completely melted him. His face was nothing but a stupid grin even as she pulled away and headed back for the building.

---

Connor felt something hovering over him. It brought him away from the edge of sleep and into a more coherent form of consciousness. He knew Murphy wasn't lying next to him, he would have felt the weight on the mattress. But he was fairly sure it wasn't Murphy above him either. There would have been some tell-tale sign, like his twin's snicker that he had a horrible time hiding completely.

Opening his eyes slowly, he expected to find Fey standing above him. Instead, he found himself staring into the barrel of a .45 handgun.


	14. Third Eye Blind

**A/N: Thank you so much to the people who've been reading this drabble. Also special thanks to BelhavenOnTap for being my kick-ass beta! Everyone seems to be enjoying the story so far. Hope I can keep it that way!**

**Hugs and love,**

**Sithy**

Murphy followed a few feet behind Fey, trying his best not to think about the way her hips moved as she walked. That task proved to be a very hard one, especially as they started up the steps. He could still imagine the taste of her soft lips on his, the way she felt pressed against him even while being all bundled up for the weather. It was enough to make him sweat and he could hardly wait to get back to the apartment so he could pull his pea coat off without looking suspicious. And when she paused at the top of the steps, turning to give him a shy smile, his skin warmed even more.

As they made their way to the apartment, Murphy realized that the door was open just a bit. He was absolutely sure that it had been closed on their way out so the suspicion that curled in his gut was not unfounded. Brushing past Fey, he quickened his pace for the door, worried of what he might find on the other side. Sure, it could have been that Connor got up, walked out to check the hall, then went back in without shutting the door, but it wasn't something his brother would normally do. Somewhat to his dismay, Murphy could hear Fey close behind him. How was he supposed to protect her from any possible bad guys with her right there?

Pressing his back to the wall beside the door, he gently pushed it open wider. With a quick glance inside he saw a woman with a mass of curly dark, dark red hair standing over his brother with a gun. She hadn't seemed to notice the door opening so Murphy slipped silently into the room, going for his black bag where he had left his gun. He almost had his fingers on it, when Fey came bursting into room. On instinct, he reached up and grabbed her wrist to try stopping her and drag her to the floor, but she was just out of reach.

"Laura! Stad!" Fey shouted, and Murphy was surprised to no end to hear the Gaelic word for stop come tumbling out of her mouth.. "These are my guests."

The girl looked over at her with wide eyes. "Guests?"

"What are you? A parrot," Fey huffed, rolling her eyes.

Murphy realized it was the other girl from the picture he and Connor had found. She looked a little different in person, prettier. Not as beautiful as Fey in his opinion, but then at the moment, nobody was. Laura gave Connor another suspicious look before pulling the gun away from his face and taking a few steps back.

"Now, give me the gun," Fey ordered.

"I am not giving you my gun, Fey," Laura protested hotly.

"Laura Sarah Teagan," Fey said, one hand on her hip and the other stretched out before her, looking all the world like a perturbed mother. "You give me that gun this instant or so help me I will box your ears right off your head."

Murphy hadn't heard a threat like that since he and Connor had left home in Ireland, and he knew he had the same shocked look on his face as his brother did. With a grumble, Laura handed the gun butt-first to Fey, who deftly ejected the clip and jacked the round out of the chamber. She plucked the flying bullet out of the air before slipping it back into the clip. It was an impressive thing to see, and it made Murphy's stomach twist into knots.. Who would have thought sweet Fey would know how to do something like that.

"Round in the chamber," she clucked her tongue at Laura before putting the barrel of the gun beneath her nose.

"I haven't fired it today," Laura scoffed, folding her arms in front of her chest. "Jesus, sometimes you act like you're my fucking mother."

Fey just glared at her a moment before turning to set the empty gun down on the table and handing the full clip back to Laura. "Now, if you're done trying to go all Rambo in the house, I'd like you to meet my guests."

She nodded toward Murphy as she slipped off her winter wear. "This is Murphy MacManus, and the man you so rudely awoke is his twin brother Connor."

"Twins, huh," Laura replied, looking between the two of them. "They don't look anything alike. Except maybe the goofy expressions on their faces."

"Fergive me, but it's not often I wake up ta a gun in me face," Connor snapped back, brow furrowing a bit in anger.

"And Irish to boot," Laura smiled, ignoring Connor as she looked back up at Fey. "Where'd you find them? The pub?"

"No," Fey scoffed gently. "I picked them up at the Flogging Molly concert."

Murphy would have called Fey's expression triumphant, especially when Laura's eyes widened a bit in amused shock. "Murphy, Connor, this is my roommate Laura."

"Where d'ye pick 'er up," Connor grumbled, glaring at Laura slightly as he got to his feet. Laura rolled her eyes with a shake of her head.

"High school," Fey replied with a smile. "So, now that everyone's acquainted, let's all enjoy the rest of our day with no further gun-related incidents, shall we?"

"There would have been no 'gun-related incident' in the first place if you had called and told me we had company," Laura replied, sitting down on the couch. She glanced up at Connor ruefully.. "Sorry about that, by the way. Girl can never be too careful."

Murphy knew his brother could not stay mad with a statement like that, and he was proven right when the anger fled Connor's face and he nodded. "Sorry fer scarin' ye, I s'pose."

"And no offense guys," Laura continued, looking back and forth between the brothers before settling on Fey. "But Fey, wasn't it a little stupid of you to bring two Irish strangers into the apartment? I mean, one I can honestly understand. I know you can handle one, but two? You're not Wonder Woman."

"No," Fey assented, putting her coat on the rack and taking Murphy's to do the same. "But I think I'd look pretty decent in the outfit. What do you think Murphy?"

He could only stare at her wide-eyed for a moment, hoping that it was heat from the furnace and not embarrassment that was warming his cheeks. Before he had a chance to answer, Laura had interrupted with a frustrated sigh "Fey, it's not funny!"

"Laura," Fey replied, clucking her tongue gently as she came up beside Murphy and rested a hand on his shoulder. "These Irish strangers have already chided me for letting them in, and it's not like I just saw them at the concert and asked them home with me. They brought me home after Robbie got wasted like I told him not to. Then I took them to McGurk's where Lucky himself approved of them. But Valenti and the Boys from the Hill were there…"

"Wait! What," Laura practically threw herself up from her seat on the couch. "What the fuck were they doing there?"

"They're looking to expand," Fey answered, turning for the kitchen. When the auburn-haired girl opened her mouth to speak, Fey cut her off. "But we'll talk about it later, okay?"

"Aye," Laura nodded with a sigh, her eyes turning suspiciously to the coffee table. "I think I want to go down to the pub and say hi to Lucky. I've missed him."

"I'm sure he'd like that," Fey smiled and nodded before turning her back to the group as she started putting away some clean dishes. As soon as her back was turned, Laura moved over to the table and started to reach for her gun. Suddenly, from the kitchen Fey called out "But the .45 stays on that table when you go."

"How the fuck," Connor asked astonished as all three looked up at her in the kitchen.

Laura rolled her eyes with a gentle huff. "It's the third eye in the back of her head. She's had it since we were kids. Come on guys, we'll all go down to McGurk's and have ourselves a few pints. I'll buy since I nearly splattered your brains all over the carpet."

Murphy watched his brother's eyes widen a bit and a small smirk touch his lips. "Well now, I must say, ye really are m'kind a girl."

"Oh stuff it, Irishman," Laura retorted, shaking her head with a bit of a chuckle. "I'm not one to fall for the likes of you."

And like that, Murphy knew that all previous transgressions were forgotten and Connor's chase had officially begun. Of course, his brother was no dog about it, but Murphy knew from experience that Connor was quite taken with Laura now, and would do his best to charm her. It might lead to mussed bed sheets, it might not, but there would definitely be something struck up between the two. Both Connor and Laura were putting on their coats as Murphy watched them, leaning against the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room.

"Ye comin' then, Murph," Connor asked, giving him a confused look.

"No," Murphy shook his head. "I think I'll stay 'ere an' keep Fey company."

A sly grin slid across Conn's face as he nodded and guided Laura out the door. Once they were gone, Murphy turned his attention back to Fey in the kitchen. She glanced over at him with a gentle smile. "You didn't have to stay here for me."

"Well, I didn't want ta admit this ta me brother," Murphy shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. "But I'm still a bit chilled from bein' out in the snow with ye all mornin'. Just didn't want ta be goin' back out in the cold so soon.."

"Ah, I see," she nodded a bit, putting the leftover cinnamon rolls in a plastic container and putting them on the counter.

"D'ye really have eyes in the back a yer head," he teased after a few moments of silence.

"Oh, yes," she nodded again with a devious grin. Coming around the counter toward him, she turned her back to him and stated ruffling through her hair. "Here, look and see for yourself."

It was just absurd enough to Murphy laughing loudly as he touched her hair and moved chunks of it aside as if really searching. Fey giggled and he brought his face closer like he was having a hard time of it. But the second the scent of her skin reached his nose, Murphy was lost. Her hair was silky against his somewhat calloused fingertips, and the smell was something he had no name for but knew he had fallen instantly in love with. His hand moved slightly downward, until he found his one finger tracing down her spine through her shirt. She shivered a little, but did not move away, and he had to fight the urge to touch her other places to discover her reaction.

"Couldn't find 'em," Murphy said at length, once he'd taken his hands off her and could breathe again..

"Damn," she replied, glancing at him over her shoulder with a shy smile. "They must have closed up for the day. Maybe some other time."

"Aye," he nodded, touching her shoulder gently.. He was about to say something about the kiss they had shared earlier in the snow, something about how he'd love nothing more than to kiss her again. But Fey turned to face him fully, breaking the touch he had on her shoulder and his concentration when she looked up into his eyes.

"I'm going to go take a shower," she informed him innocently, before a smirk touched her soft lips and he pointed a mildly accusing finger at him. "And just so you know, I will be locking the bathroom door."

He was a bit taken aback by the comment, because in truth the moment she said shower, the idea had popped into his mind, no matter how fleetingly.. But he tried to hide it by giving a little shrug. "A course. That'd be the sensible thing ta do."

Fey chuckled gently, reaching out the pat his chest just over his heart. He wasn't quick enough to grab her hand and hold it there before she was off to the bathroom, leaving Murphy all by himself.


	15. Hush

**A/N: Alright guys, I'm terribly sorry for making you wait so very long for this next chapter. I've gotten lots of PM's about it, but I've been so busy lately. To say that I got to hang out with Norman Reedus in person should explain my situation entirely and some of you readers know the deal behind that. If you don't and you want more details, just message me and I'll give you the whole story haha **

**Anyway, here's the long awaited Chapter 15 for The Gateway.**

**Hugs and love,**

**Sithy**

**PS - I have Murphy doing something sublimely silly in this chapter, please forgive him and me, but it was required by a certain someone.**

The apartment was silent except for the obvious sounds of water running for a shower. Murphy did his best to put out of his mind the picture of Fey naked under the running water, rivulets dripping down her skin and over places he honestly had no right to imagine. He closed his eyes and tried to shake the thoughts from his head, but to no avail. Then he spied the bookcases, the rows and haphazard stacks seeming to call him from across the room. They could prove a welcome respite from his wandering mind, not that the idea of Fey in the shower was something horrible to think about, but he thought it was wrong in a way because she was not his to think about in that respect and she was so much more than just a lovely body.

A little reading would distract him, though, since his brother was gone. But the good Lord only knew the teasing that would have ensued had Connor stayed behind. Murphy had narrowly escaped that one. Thinking of it in terms of escape at that moment made him laugh, because the first book he noticed on the shelf was _The Count of Monte Cristo_. He had loved that one as a young teen, as well as every other book written by Dumas that he could get his hands on. Something about old French adventures had thrilled him to no end as a boy. He saw a few Bronte and Austen novels, which were perfectly fine, just not his cup of tea so to speak. There was a score of philosophy and poetry books. He was tempted to pick up Ginsberg, or maybe even Plath, but he wasn't quite in the mood for either.

_Alice in Wonderland_ and _Alice through the Looking Glass_ kept him occupied for a while, though he really just skipped ahead to his favorite parts, especially the poem "Jabberwocky" which always brought him a bit of a chuckle. And the grin of the Cheshire Cat reminded him so much of Connor sometimes he found it hilarious. Even as he closed the book to reshelf it, he found himself mumbling the beginning of the poem when the Cheshire Cat sang it in the Disney movie.

"Twas brillig, and the slithy toves did gyre and gimble in the wabe," he half-hummed, half-sang, content in the knowledge that no one was around to hear him or tease him about it because Connor and Laura were gone and Fey was still showering. "All mimsy were the barrogroves, and the mome raths out grabe.."

He continued his search through the books and came across _The Dirty Dozen_, which he'd never read but really enjoyed the movie, and some Stephen King novels. He would have picked up one of the latter, but they were always a bit of a long read, and he didn't want to become too engrossed in anything at the moment. His eye was set on _The Dreamcatcher_ for later though. Then he saw the stack of Shakespeare again and his eyes lit up with glee. One of his very favorites was right on top, _Much Ado about Nothing_. Murphy pulled it down and started flipping through the pages to find his favorite passages. Those of course mostly consisted of the banter between Beatrice and Benedick.

Next was _Titus Andronicus_, followed by _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ and _The Taming of the Shrew_. But the one he wanted next was all the way at the bottom of the stack. Judging from the well-worn spine, Fey had enjoyed reading _Romeo and Juliet_ as much as he had. Murphy was about to pull that one out when he noticed the dark purple bit of yarn sticking out from beneath the book. Curiosity got the better of him, and he found himself grabbing the end of the string and trying to track down where it came from. He followed the string behind the bookcase and was shocked by what he found.

Between the wall and the back of the bookcase, beneath the window sill, was a hidden shelf. The shelf had a small wicker basket containing rolls of yarn and knitting needles. The particular string of dark purple yarn led to an unfinished pair of mittens which suspiciously matched the hat Murphy had been wearing lately. He was just reaching down to grab the basket and investigate further when he heard a creak in the floor behind him.

"I see you've discovered my dark secret," Fey's said behind him in a dramatically low voice, though he could hear a slight laughter to it. "I'm afraid I shall have to kill you now."

Murphy spun around quickly, knocking a couple stacks of books over to land with heavy thuds on the carpet. He let out a resounding "Shit!" and looked up just in time to see Fey's sweet smile turn into concern. Bending down to start picking up the books, he heard Fey taking a few steps forward.

"I'm sorry Murphy," she said, sounding like she was pouting just a little. "I didn't really mean to scare you."

He went to stand up, to reassure her that he was the one that should be apologizing, but the back of his skull made contact with something hard before he got a chance to speak. Fey let out a yelp of pain and fell backwards onto the floor. Murphy looked over to find her holding her forehead in her hands, rocking a little and muttering curses under her breath. Apparently, she had bent down to help him with the books, and Murphy, in his infinite awkwardness around her, had head butted her right in the face.

"Ah Christ, Fey," he blurted out, falling to his knees beside her and trying to figure out what he should do with his hands. "Are ye alright?"

"I'm fine," she nodded slowly, giving a weak chortle. "I'm fine."

"I'm so sorry, Fey," Murphy replied ruefully, gently trying to pull her hands away from her forehead. "Me an' me fuckin' hard head; 'ere let me see it."

"Don't worry Murphy," Fey answered, though she let him move her hands easily. "Accidents happen."

"Aye, too many when I'm 'round," he shook his head, but smiled a bit when Fey giggled quietly. As gingerly as his somewhat calloused fingertips would allow, Murphy traced around the reddening skin of her forehead. It didn't look too bad, most likely to leave a welt which made his insides twist up with guilt, but she was very lucky that he hadn't caught her nose, which might have broken with the impact. "I think ye'll be alright, love. Though, I might've given ye a concussion."

"I told you I'm alright," she smiled weakly, but winced a little at the effort. Yet she managed a smirk as she looked up at him. "Concussion, huh? Does that mean you'd have to keep me up all night?"

Murphy looked at her for a moment and was suddenly, painfully aware of how little clothing she was wearing. He realized he was holding her hand still, pressed against a bare patch of her thigh where her loose shorts had ridden up when she fell backwards. She had on a tank-top, one of her bra straps having slid down her shoulder to rest limply against her upper arm. It was black, and parts of him nearly screamed to find out if her undergarments matched. And her beautiful hair was wet and tousled all around her face, his other hand having wound its fingers in a bit of it.

"I might just have ta," he replied, trying to keep his voice light and playful with a grin.

"That would be no good," Fey sighed, shaking her head a bit. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

"Ye were out pretty late," he nodded, shifting so that he was sitting on the floor instead of kneeling. Murphy gave her a quick glance before looking away. "I know ye said ye were goin' ta watch a neighbor's kids, but I don't believe ye. If ye don't want ta tell me what ye were really doin', I understand. Just know tha' if ye ever find yerself in need, I'm more than willin' ta help ye."

"That's very sweet of you Murphy, but it's not really anything you could help with," she sighed again, nervously pushing some strands of hair behind her ear. When she glanced back up at his face, her eyes were glistening a bit with unshed tears and it tore at Murphy's heart. But she covered it up with a sharp sniff and a firm set of her jaw. "One of the kids that normally comes into the library… she was found in an alley last night. Overdosed…on heroin. It was her uncle who called last night, her legal guardian. He asked if I'd go with him and his wife to the police station to officially identify the body."

"Christ, sweetheart. That's terrible," he muttered, shaking his head slightly in disbelief as he moved his hand to her shoulders. "Are ye alright?"

"It's not the first body I've had to identify, and probably won't be the last," she remarked, and something told Murphy she was trying to act stronger than she felt. "The worst part is, she was never a druggie before. It's probably why it did her in so quickly."

"Do the police have any idea who gave the drugs to 'er," Murphy asked, unconsciously trying to gather information. "Are they lookin' inta anybody?"

"I told you, the police don't do shit around here," she spat harshly. "Either they can't or they won't. It doesn't matter one way or the other, the guy who gave her the drugs will get his soon enough."

Murphy's eyes squinted in confusion. "What d'ye mean?"

"Nothing," she replied weakly, giving a shake of her head. Her eyes moved around a bit, as if searching for something to change the subject. When she seemed to find it, she said "Anyway, I see you've found my secret stash behind the bookcase. Very clever of you."

"Did ye knit all this stuff," he asked, picking up the pair of unfinished gloves that had fallen on the floor.

"Well, it's called crochet, but yes," Fey smiled a little, and Murphy was content to keep the conversation on the crafts if only to keep her smiling. "I made those."

"An' the hat ye gave me," he inquired. "An' Connor's?"

"Aye," she giggled gently with a nod. "I made them both."

"Ah," Murphy laughed, fiddling with the crochet hooks and the ball of yarn. "So, will ye be finished with the mittens soon so I can have 'em ta match me hat?"

"As soon as they're done, they'll be all yours," Fey beamed. "I didn't know you liked that hat so much."

"Aye, I love it," he nodded with a smirk. "An' it's all the more amazin' since ye made it with yer own two lovely hands."

Fey giggled some more, a bit of pink coloring her face as she looked away from him. Murphy couldn't stop himself before he reached out and brushed his fingers gently down her cheek. He used his knuckles to tilt her chin back so that she was looking at him. "Are ye sure ye're alright?"

"Yes, Murphy," she answered, twisting so she was kneeling beside him. Then she gave a wicked smirk before adding "Though, my arse might be sore later. Maybe you could kiss it and make it feel better."

"Ye just let me know when an' I'll be more than happy ta oblige," he retorted smugly, raising his chin in defiance.

"You're hilarious, Murphy," she giggled, sending that electric shiver up his spine as she leaned over him and kissed his cheek.

The jolt that went through him was enough to scatter his brain for a second. His fingers delved into the hair on the back of her head, keeping her from pulling too far away. He met her eyes, his own skimming down her face to her full, slightly parted lips. She licked them quickly and it sent a pang through him that he could only classify as longing, his mind somewhat mesmerized by their saliva-induced glistening. His tongue darted quickly over his own before he kissed her, sealing their lips together.

Murphy felt Fey stiffen for a split second before she leaned into the kiss. Her eyes closed as her hand came up, warm palm pressing gently against his jaw while her lips parted a fraction further, enticing him to gingerly let the tip of his tongue slip out to taste her skin. But Fey pulled away, both their chests heaving slightly, though their hands never left their resting spots.

"Fey…" Murphy started to whisper, but she brought her fingers up to cover his lips. Good thing too, because he honestly had no idea what to say. Then she slid her thumb so soft and achingly tender across his bottom lip he thought he would die. With two quick kisses, that might have been considered chaste if they hadn't had just enough suction at the end to send his senses reeling, she stood and nibbled on her bottom lip while holding a hand out to him..

"Come on, Murphy," she prodded, giving him a gentle smile. "I have an idea for a late lunch… or early dinner, whatever you want to call it."

Murphy took the offered hand and the help standing up, surprised at how weak his knees felt, then followed Fey into the kitchen to see what this idea was all about.


	16. Quick and Quiet

**A/N: This chapter may seem a little bit… obscene, but my Muse, my Murph, told me it was one that had to be done. Trust me, he wanted it way more graphic than this, but I just couldn't go all out like that. So right now, he's pouting behind me as he reads this, calling me a chicken haha**

**Hugs**

**-Sithy**

The big idea Fey had was a recipe for Irish Stout Chicken that her grandmother had given her. She had been born in Ireland, come over on the boat and promptly fell in love with and married a man of German descent, who moved them to St. Louis. Of course with a last name like Fitzpatrick, Murphy assumed her father must have been Irish as well. If you asked Murphy, he'd tell you she still had the lovely face of a fairy and the air of a born and bred Irish woman, minus the accent.

"Is tha' how ye know Gaelic," he asked, as he watched her browning some chicken in a skillet. "From yer grandmother?"

When she gave him a confused look, Murphy shifted a bit and glanced out the window over the kitchen sink. "When we come in earlier an' found yer roommate holdin' a gun ta me brother's head, ye said 'stad." That's Gaelic fer stop."

"An Irishman who actually knows Gaelic," Fey smiled. "I'm impressed. Do you know any other languages?"

Christ, but those lips of hers could stop time, he thought, when that smile lit up her face. Shaking the thought away, he only smirked a little. "Me an' Conn know a few. Our mother insisted on it."

"Nice," she nodded with a smile, flipping the chicken over. "And yeah, I learned a little Gaelic from my granny. Not to say that I could carry a great philosophical discussion with anyone who knows the language, but I can manage a bit."

Fey started putting the slightly cooked vegetables back in the skillet with the chicken before turning to the refrigerator and pulling out a can of Guinness. Without thought, Murphy licked his lips when his eyes fell on the cold can, making Fey giggle. He blinked and looked up at her. "What?"

"The faces you make sometimes," she shook her head a little with a grin, popping the top on the can. She poured some of the stout beer into the skillet over the food, glancing up at him and quickly away before adding "You're very cute, Murphy."

"Cute," he asked with a slight chuckle, eyes skimming down her form then back up to her face. He was tempted to blurt out just how beautiful he thought she was, but he didn't want to freak her out or anything. "Well, ye're not so bad yerself, darlin'."

"Thanks, Murph," she smirked at him. Fey rolled her eyes a little before holding the can of Guinness out to him. "Here. You can have the rest of this."

Murphy took the can with an appreciative sigh. "Ah, Fey… Food and Guinness. Ye certainly know the way ta an Irishman's heart."

"Murphy MacManus," Fey giggled sweetly, stirring the food in the skillet and the butterflies in Murphy's gut. "Are you flirting with me?"

It took all of his willpower not to snarf his beer as he drank. Instead, he looked at her out of the corner of his eye, leaning back against the counter before licking the Guinness taste from his lips. "Should I not be?"

The smirk she gave him seemed designed to take his breath away. There was a devious arch to her brow as she put the lid on the skillet and moved closer to him, leaning one of her hips against the counter only a foot from him. "Well, if you're going to continue to flirt with me - or if you plan on getting anywhere - then maybe you'd want to take a shower."

"Ye tellin' me I stink, Fey," he smirked with just as much mischief, twisting so he faced her fully.

"No," she shook her head, as if that was the silliest thing she had ever heard. "It's just that your hair's got a bit of slush still from the snow and your Virgin Mary is looking a bit dingy."

She reached up and ran a fingernail delicately over the inked outline on his neck. Murphy suppressed a shiver, pulling her hand down with a chuckle. "Now who's flirtin' with who?"

"Whom," she corrected, raising her chin before turning back to the skillet..

He could only chuckle again as he watched her stir the food again. "My apologies, Miss Fitzpatrick. Now who's flirtin' with _whom_?"

"That's better," Fey smiled. "Now, please deposit your Guinness can in the recycle bin before you retire to the lavatory to commence your showering activities."

"Christ woman, ye've got pompous down ta an art," Murphy laughed as he tossed his can in the bin marked strictly for aluminum. "But ye didn't answer me question."

Fey gave him a sidelong glance with another smirk. "Go take a shower Murphy. Dinner should be ready by the time you're done. Laura and your brother might even be home in time to eat some."

"Fine. I shall acquiesce," he replied just as haughtily as she had been, giving her a wink when she smiled. "Clean towels in the bathroom?"

"Aye," she nodded with her own gentle smile before he headed out of the kitchen.

Normally, Murphy would have just hopped into the shower and gotten back into the same clothes he tended to wear for days, but he figured perhaps at least a clean shirt was in order considering he was a guest in the home of a woman he was very fond of. When he unzipped his duffel bag the first thing he saw were his two handguns and his combat knife. The sight nearly startled him because he realized as he had been talking with Fey in the kitchen, he had almost forgotten he was one of the infamous Saints, that he had a Calling to rid the world of evil. When he was alone with Fey, he was just Murphy MacManus again. At the moment, he hadn't decided if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Glancing over his shoulder, Murphy made sure Fey hadn't caught sight of the weapons in his bag. Most assuredly she would kick him and Connor out, maybe even call the police, or worst of all, ask questions he wasn't prepared to answer. Her back was still turned as she continued stirring the skillet and Murphy reached to the bottom of his bag for a clean shirt, folding the rest of the contents over to hide his weaponry.

The frosted glass of the small window in the bathroom gave everything a grayish tint until Murphy flipped the switch, then it became a bright white which would have looked sterile and unwelcoming if it hadn't been for the splashes of varying shades of green scattered about. He had to admit it was the cleanest bathroom he and his brother had had the pleasure of using in quite some time, a luxury he wouldn't necessarily say he had missed, but wouldn't necessarily push away either. As promised, there were two clean, fresh-smelling moss green towels on the back of the toilet with a matching washrag, almost disgustingly soft and fluffy when he ran his fingers over them. Even Murphy could appreciate something like that.

Glancing at the shower curtain while he undressed, Murphy couldn't help but laugh. He'd only used the bathroom once or twice before and the curtain had always been pulled back. It was closed now and he could see that printed on the material were a few green fairies, like the kind that were on the old Absinthe bottles, curvy little things with shimmering wings. Apparently Fey was proud of the meaning of her name.

The second the warm water hit his skin, he shuddered and sighed in delight. Hot showers, an indulgence he absolutely cherished, nearly as much as his beer and cigarettes. "Ah, Fey, ye're a goddess."

Murphy scrubbed himself clean, even going so far as to wash his hair. At first he was slightly worried that everything would smell floral or fruity, which didn't really matter to him so much he just didn't want to have to put up with Connor's shite about him smelling like a girl. But he was lucky enough to find a shampoo that only smelled like… well, like clean, so he used that. Yet, as the suds started to slide down his skin, he was rocked with another smell, one that made him suck in a deep breath.

An aching pressure began to build low in his stomach when he realized it was the same smell of Fey's hair. Bowing his head a little, Murphy inhaled another deep breath, pressing the palm of one hand against the tiled wall, letting the water run down his shoulders and back. The image of Fey showering in the exact same spot, the way she moved her hips when she walked, the smiling, the giggling, the feel of her fingers against his neck, her lips on his… Christ, his imagination was too good, just too fucking good. Despite the pang of guilt that went through him, he knew he had to release the building pressure or he'd positively go mad.

Murphy was quick about it, quick and quiet. At least, he had thought he was quiet. But apparently in the same instant he imagined himself holding Fey's hips snuggly above his own, her head tossed back as she sighed his name, Murphy's own gentle cry of fulfillment was louder than he expected. Because a few moments later, there was a knock on the bathroom door, and Fey's voice filtered through registering with a slight bit of alarm.

"Murphy, are you alright," she questioned through the door.

He could feel the blush creeping up his neck and across his cheeks as he stared at the shower curtain in disbelief. "I… I'm alright, darlin'. Just got some… some shampoo in me eyes."

"Oh, okay," her voice replied with a small amount of relief. "Well, you can put the dirty towels and any clothes you need washed in the hamper. Food's ready when you are."

"Thanks," he called awkwardly, even as he heard her moving away from the door. With a shaky sigh, he washed himself off again, crossing himself quickly before pressing his palms together in a silent prayer of forgiveness. He'd have to save the real praying for Church on Sunday, but this would suffice for the moment.

At least now it wouldn't be such a big deal, he told himself as he got dressed. That tension he always felt wouldn't be there, the urge to grab her up and make love to her right there on the floor or against the counter would be gone. So maybe it had been a good idea to tend to himself, even if he almost got caught. Oh, how embarrassing that would have been. At least he hadn't cried out her name.

When he got out of the bathroom, he found Fey sitting at the small table, her elbow leaning on the tabletop with her cheek resting in the palm of her hand. Her eyes were turned down to her plate, where she absently prodded her food with her fork. She looked deep in thought, the tip of her tongue sticking out at the corner of her lips, making Murphy grin. A small snicker escaped him, drawing her eyes up to his face. His heart skipped a beat when her face lit up at the sight of him.

"Come on, then," she laughed. "I've been waiting for you. I was about ready to come in after you and drag you out dripping wet, dressed or not."

"Then it's a good thing we're only in yer apartment," he retorted playfully as he came up and sat down across from her. "It would've caused a sensation were ye ta do that if we were goin' out."

"Oh that it would," she replied, dishing up some food for him. "Because if we were going out, I'd have to dress to match."

"Would ye now," he asked, trying to hide his astonishment. Maybe he had been wrong about the shower incident setting him straight, or maybe Fey just had a way of doing strange things to him. He was about to ask if she actually did want to go out some time. It sounded ridiculous in his head, it had been so long since he actually asked someone out on a date. But the prospect was all too tempting and he was about to open his mouth when something buzzed past his head and he started a bit from it.

"How the hell," Fey asked, keeping the fly in her line of sight. "It's too cold for flies."

Murphy chuckled a little. "Maybe 'e got a whiff a this food and decided ta brave the cold."

Fey shot him an amused look as she turned her head very slowly back and forth. The buzzing sound of the fly grew louder. Her finger came up and pressed against her lips, a sign that Murphy knew meant to stay quiet. The speck of black appeared right past his face, and as quick as anything Murphy had ever seen before, Fey's hand shot out, snatching the fly a mere inch from Murphy's nose.

"Gotcha," she smiled triumphantly, standing with the fly enclosed in her fist. She took the few steps to the window, cracking it open and releasing the fly into the cold winter day.

Murphy watched her, eyes wide with another grin on his face. "That was fuckin' amazing."

Fey spun around to look at him, half-surprised herself, like she had forgotten he had seen what she had done. Bright red colored her cheeks as she sat back down. "Oh, well… I'm just quick is all."

"I'll fuckin' say," he retorted, to amazed to curb his cursing. "Ye did the same fuckin' thing with the bullet a Laura's gun earlier. How the fuck'd ye learn that?"

Her eyes turned up to his, part dark, part sad, but with an overall hardness that shut Murphy up quickly. He'd seen that same kind of hardness in the eyes of his brother and his father and himself. After a tense moment, he licked his lips quickly and said quietly "So, ye've got secrets, huh?"

"So do you and your brother," she replied, head tilting over toward their duffel bags. "I'm sure if I checked your bags I'd find them out too. But as long as you're not shooting up or trying to sell something to the people I care about then I've got no problem with you staying here as long as you want."

"Me an' me brother ain't druggies, if that's what ye're scared of," Murphy replied somewhat defensively.

"I'm glad," she replied, her eyes softening as she looked back down at her plate, seeming almost ashamed for her suspicion. "I'd really hate to have to throw you and Connor out. I'm really starting to like you."

Murphy had to mentally chastise himself harshly for the flutter in his heart, as if he were a schoolboy and not a grown man who carried weapons and did God's Work, like he was staring at a childhood crush and not a grown woman who obviously had her own hidden history. But her eyes turned up to him, a small smile playing on her lips, he realized, secrets or not, she was laying claim to a good portion of his drunken, Irish heart.

"Murphy, I'll trust you to keep your secrets if you trust me to keep mine," she said gently, offering him a hand to shake on the matter. "Deal?"

"Aye," he replied, taking her hand and giving it a shake. She went to pull her hand back, but something made Murphy tighten his grip a little. When she gave him a questioning look, he brought her hand closer and brushed his lips gently over her knuckles. "I trust ye, Fey."

He could hear her breath catch and it sent a delightful shiver down his spine as he kissed the back of her hand, his eyes never leaving hers. After a second, he slowly let her withdraw her hand and for the first time he noticed that he wasn't blushing, though the same couldn't be said for Fey.

"Eat your dinner, Murphy," she ordered softly, her cheeks still red as she refused to meet his eyes. There was a slight tremor in her voice and it took all his strength not to smile triumphantly. He could only hope that maybe now she was starting to get a taste of what she had been doing to him.

Murphy did as he was told and took a bite of the food. It was positively delicious and he savored the next few bites. Fey had finally gotten around to taking a bite of hers when the door flew open and Laura came bursting in, a look of alarm on her face.

"Fey, I've got to talk to you! It's about Mr. Haloran!"


	17. Break Down

**A/N: I'm sure some people have been waiting for this chapter and others are just like… "Uh, what is this crap?" Either way, here it is. I know I'm a terrible person when it comes to cliffhangers and I'll try my best to keep up with this story better from now on. **

**Hugs, Sithy**

When Laura came bursting in, shouting about Mr. Haloran, Fey had stood so quickly and with so much conviction her chair went tumbling backwards, skidding across the floor. Her eyes were wide with terror and worry and it quickly spread to Murphy, especially when Connor emerged half-panting from the hallway to lean against the doorframe. At first, Murphy thought his brother had been hurt, which set an old familiar rage boiling in him, but he soon realized Connor was just winded from running after Laura, who seemed to have a bit more stamina than him in the cold winter air.

"What is it, Laura? What happened," Fey shrieked, which didn't help Murphy's nerves a bit.

"Me, Lucky and Connor were drinking, waiting around for Mr. Haloran to come into work," Laura started, sounding a bit frantic. "But then Tamra came running in screaming about a body on the sidewalk outside. It was Mr. Haloran… someone beat him pretty badly. We called 911, but the EMS guys said he was real bad off. They don't know for sure if he's gonna make it."

Fey gripped Laura's shoulders so fiercely even Murphy had to wince. "Who did it? Who beat up Mr. Haloran?"

Laura's anxious fidgeting ceased suddenly as she looked Fey straight in the face. Then, she made two quick hand gestures, raising one fist then waving her hand over her hair like she was going to smooth it back. Murphy caught Connor's eyes, both at a loss over the peculiar gesture. Yet it seemed Fey understood entirely too well. Her jaw dropped and she let go of Laura's shoulders, turning back to the table. She pressed her fists on either side of her plate, and from that angle, Murphy could see the pain and anger raging across her pretty face. Her head bowed and he could see her shoulders trembling slightly. His first thought was to round the table and take her into his arms. Most assuredly she was crying over the whole situation. But his action was interrupted when Fey's head snapped back up.

"Mother fucker," she spat harshly, grabbing her plate of food and twisting to hurl it at the wall behind her.

Connor and Laura barely had enough time to duck the flying plate before it shattered, leaving a dark brown mess on the kitchen wall. To Murphy's surprise, Fey was jumping over the table toward him, a strange determination set on her face.

"No! Murphy stop her," Laura called.

Without another thought, he reached out and grabbed Fey around the waist before she was able to leave the kitchen area. She struggled and squirmed in his grasp, body straining as her hands reached toward the far wall where her bookcases were. Growling angrily, she shouted "I'm going to kill that fucker! Let me go! Let me go!"

"Fey, calm down," Murphy tried to soothe, gripping her harder.

"Damn it! Murphy! Bastard! Let me go!" she continued to rail, still struggling against his strong arms, but he heard a breaking in her voice as she kept shouting. She turned suddenly in his arms, starting to pound the ends of her fists against his chest. It was painful, and Murphy was sure she would leave bruises, but he held firm, unwilling to yield. The way she hit him, the force behind it let him know that she most definitely could have gotten away from him, possibly injured him severely and escaped had she really wanted to. Yet, he could see in her eyes she was on the verge of breaking down, and as much as he hated to see a woman cry, he was more than willing to keep his arms wrapped around her..

"Goddamnit Murphy!" she spat, much weaker now as tears streamed down her cheeks, though she wasn't sobbing. "Let me go…"

Murphy just held her tighter, burying his fingers in her soft hair and pulling her head closer. She pressed her face into the crook of his neck, tears dampening his skin as her trembling lips forced his eyes closed to suppress his own shiver. Her arms wrapped around him, fists clenching into the back of his shirt. He didn't think twice about kissing the side of her neck, whispering comforting words against her skin. Still, she didn't sob, just sighed sadly across his throat.

After a few more lingering heartbeats, Fey pulled away and wiped furiously at her cheeks and nose with a few gentle sniffles. Her eyes turned up to his and stayed locked there for a moment. Murphy took the time to use the back of his finger to wipe some of the moisture under her eye. The wetness made the ink of his "Aequitas" tattoo look even darker. His heart was beating in his throat even as she walked around him toward the mess she had made by tossing her food across the room.

--

"Do we know who it was, Conn," Murphy asked in Russian, still keeping his tone hushed. Fey and Laura were dead silent in the kitchen, cleaning up the mess that they refused to let the brothers help with. When the men protested, the looks the girls gave them said there was no room for argument.

"Some gangster named Sal," Connor replied in Italian. He leaned in closer to add even more quietly. "One of Valenti's guys."

No wonder Fey had been on the warpath. It was enough to piss Murphy and Connor off, and they didn't even know Mr. Haloran all that well. Murphy glanced over the back of the couch into the kitchen. Both girls still knelt on the floor, looking at each other in silence. The mess was completely gone, but still they stayed on the floor. Laura raised her hands and started to gesture, but Fey stopped her fingers mid-movement and turned her head to look straight at Murphy. Her gaze was wholly unnerving, not exactly blank but exceptionally hard to read. He figured maybe that was the point as he turned back to look at his brother.

"I spoke to one of the bartenders," Connor continued in Russian. "He said Sal likes to hang out at a little club in the city called 'Danse.' The guy even gave me directions."

Murphy raised a hand to quiet his brother for a moment as he watched the TV. It had absently been turned on and it looked like it was news time. The respectable looking anchorwoman was reporting about a known heroin dealer who had been found shot to death in an alley early that morning. Apparently the police had linked him to the sale of "hot shots," bits of heroin laced with poison that had led to the deaths of a number of local teens. The police believed it to be a gang related shooting.

"We're going out to see Mr. Haloran at the hospital," Fey suddenly called from behind them.

Both men looked up to find the two women pulling on their coats and hats. Connor stood and asked "D'ye want us ta go with ye ladies?"

"No," Laura smiled weakly. "You guys stay and watch a movie or something. Hospitals aren't that fun and we wouldn't want to drag you to one for a man you barely even know."

"Are ye sure?" Murphy pressed, eyes skimming Fey's face for a reaction. She took the few steps to be standing right in front of him.

"Yeah, we're sure." Fey nodded before leaning down and kissing him gently on the corner of his lips. "Thank you, Murphy."

Had he been thinking clearly or expecting it, most assuredly he would have grabbed the back of her neck and kissed her good and proper. Instead, Murphy's eyebrows shot toward his hairline, jaw falling open slightly as she walked back over to the door.

"Be back in a bit, fellas," Laura waved before they both left.

Murphy turned back to sit properly on the couch, eyes still wide. Connor chuckled at him. "I'll eat tha' powder blue hat if she ain't as taken with ye as ye are with 'er."

"Shut it, Conn," Murphy grumbled. "Where're the directions ta that club?"

--

About an hour after the women left, the brothers were on their way to Danse. Being new to the city, it took them a while to find the right streets to turn on, but once they got there neither could mistake the club for anything else. There was a line of people outside in the cold air waiting to be let in and the muffled thump of techno music filtered through the slightly opened door and the broken windows. Their first simultaneous thought was how the fuck were they going to get in there, but with the same flash of brilliance they walked right up to the waiting bouncer..

"Back a the line assholes," the bouncer grumbled.

"We're lookin' fer Sal," Connor said sternly.

"Sal," the bouncer asked as if he didn't give two shits.

"Yeah, fuckin' Sal," Murphy repeated hotly. "Valenti wants 'im an' we come ta collect his sorry ass."

"Since when does Valenti send Micks to do his dirty work," the bouncer replied.

"He's been recruitin' since he wants ta go inta Irishtown," Connor answered matter-of-factly.

The bouncer considered them for a moment before shifting the weight on his feet. "Well Sal ain't here no more. Took off staggering down that way."

He tilted his head down the street away from the club. Both brothers glanced that way before giving the bouncer an appreciative smile. "Thank ye."

Then they were off down the street in the direction the bouncer pointed out. The farther they went, the emptier the street got. It was mostly abandoned apartment buildings and warehouses. Most likely the only people in the area were squatters and drug dealers. No one would go to the cops about anything, so they stopped in an alley and pulled down their ski masks, snapping open their gun holsters and slipping their firearms out smoothly. They held their weapons close to their sides where the gun metal blended with their black pea-coats.

After a while, they started to wonder if they were led down the wrong path when there were the sounds of a scuffle not too far ahead of them. Rounding into another dark alley, they found a man who matched Sal's description perfectly kneeling in the snow-slush on the ground. He looked like someone had beaten him pretty badly, and there was a switchblade open and bloody on the ground at his knees. The man looked up at the brothers for help, but a figure came up behind him, kicking him swiftly in the back and sending him face first to the ground.

The twins could barely make out the figure behind the man, accept that it held a gun trained on them. They raised their weapons as well. Apparently, someone had gotten to Sal first and wasn't willing to give up their piece of the action. The real question was if this other dark figure was on their side, or just another bad guy. Hopefully having two guns trained on one person would answer the question quickly enough.

But another figure emerged from the shadows, only this time, the person's gun was trained on Sal, who was struggling back to his knees. The figure came closer to him, though expertly staying out of the way of the partner in the back. But Sal had picked up the switchblade, and the brothers could see him rearing back, ready to strike at the approaching figure. Out of instinct, both brothers went to cry out a warning, but the shot rang out, catching Sal in the temple and sending the whole back right side of his skull and almost the entirety of his brain splattering out onto the ground and alley wall. Hollow-point bullet fired from a semi-automatic 9mm, the brothers thought grimly. These guys were good.

There were a tense few moments as Sal's body slumped over sideways from the force of impact. The brothers' stared at the two figures, and the one who had shot Sal turned their gun on the twins as well. It was a stand-off as they stared each other down as best as possible in the darkness. The twins' eyes were just starting to adjust when the closer figure made a quick hand motion, stooping to collect the discarded switchblade before both turned down the alley.

Though their mission was technically complete, something - be it curiosity or pride - would not let the MacManus brothers let the two figures just disappear into the darkness. They followed, hopping over Sal's body and trying to keep their eyes on the moving figures. There was a dead end fast-approaching, a high wooden fence well above any other the runners' heads. And the brothers watched amazed as the other two kept running full-speed, hopping from some crates to a dumpster lid and using their momentum to shimmy up a drainpipe a few feet so that they were balanced on top of the fence and poised to go over.

At that angle, the moonlight actually showed a brief flash of the figures. They were masked of course, but Murphy could see that one of them had a torn and bloody shirt sleeve, undoubtedly the same blood that had been smeared across Sal's switchblade. Then, the two were gone beyond the fence. Connor and Murphy went over to the fence and peered through one of the holes in it. The figures were just turning onto the street and out of sight.

"Who the fuck were they," Connor grumbled, which made Murphy smile inwardly. His brother sounded an awful lot like Agent Smecker at the moment.

"Maybe they were hitmen from another mob family," Murphy offered. "Or maybe St. Louis has its own set of Saints."


	18. Closer

**A/N: This is a long one… hope you don't mind.**

**Hugs, everyone's favorite Sithy (hopefully) **

When the brothers returned to the apartment, it was almost ten o'clock at night. The place was as dark as when they left it, the girls having not returned home yet. Connor locked the door behind them as Murphy turned the lights on and headed for the kitchen. The other night during dinner, Fey had mentioned to them that they could smoke in the apartment if they used one of the glass candy dishes in one of the cupboards as an ashtray. Out of consideration, neither of them had taken her up on the offer. But tonight, they definitely both needed a cigarette.

"D'ye honestly think there's another pair a men out there with the same Callin' as us," Connor asked, pacing around the air mattress a bit as Murphy put the makeshift ashtray on the coffee table.

"D'ye honestly think we three'd be the only ones," Murphy replied in kind.

Connor nodded in agreement, obviously understanding his brother's point of view. He paused just long enough to reach into his coat pocket and pull out a lighter and two cigarettes, handing one to Murphy who had already brought out his Zippo. "Really, though, there didn't seem ta be anythin' overtly religious 'bout how they handled it. Just popped the guy an' ran."

"We interrupted 'em, remember," Murphy added, taking a drag from his cigarette. "Though they sure as 'ell knew what they were doin'. That one had fuckin' hollow-points in his nine."

"Fuckin' hell," Connor shook his head with a sigh, placing the butt of his cigarette between his lips to run his fingers through his hair.

They both sat down on the couch and tried to figure out what had happened in that alley. Murphy shook his head and flicked some of his ashes into the dish. "Maybe they're not religious at all. Maybe they're fuckin' vigilante cops, or ex-fuckin'-Marines that got tired of all the shit that's been goin' on 'round this place. Who fuckin' knows?"

"We do know one thing though," Connor corrected, leaning forward on the couch and placing his elbows on his knees.

"Aye," Murphy questioned, unconsciously mimicking his brother's posture. "And what's that?"

"They're good men," Connor answered, taking another drag.

Murphy nodded, nibbling on the side of his thumb. "Aye. If they weren't, they would've tried ta kill us as well. No witnesses."

They sat for a few quiet moments, contemplating everything that had happened. After a while, Connor got up and put a movie in the DVD player. They watched Hellboy for a bit of a chuckle, Big Red always had some funny things to say. When one of the first less funny scenes came on, Murphy looked at the clock, then back at his brother. "Ye think the girls are alright? They've been gone awhile."

"Sure they're fine," Connor assured, giving his brother a smirk. "Worried about yer girl, are ye? How fuckin' adorable of ye."

"Ah fuck ye," Murphy grumbled. "Like ye haven't taken a likin' ta tha' wee spitfire Laura ye've got."

Connor's smirk died a bit. "Now that ain't any concern a yers."

Murphy laughed as he pursed his lips around his cigarette butt and took a long drag, blowing out smoke rings in triumph. The door knob jiggled a few moments later, and both men twisted to look over the back of the couch. Fey and Laura came walking in, laughing and seemingly in an overall better mood than when they left. Connor paused the DVD as the women started taking off their coats.

"What movie were you guys watching," Laura asked with a smile.

Connor blinked at her, which made Murphy smirk. "We're watchin' Hellboy."

"Oh, good one," she beamed and turned to look at Fey who had made her way to the kitchen.

Fey raised her hand to keep anyone from speaking. "Don't worry, I'll have the popcorn in there in a few minutes."

"You don't mind if we watch with you, do you," Laura asked.

"Course not," Connor grinned. "I'll just restart the thing…"

Murphy heard Laura tell his brother that he didn't have to restart the movie, they knew it by heart anyway, but the darker brother wasn't paying much attention. He'd gotten up and was going to the kitchen to join Fey. "How was Mr. Haloran?"

"He's…" Fey paused a second to glance at him while pulling down a large bowl, the popping corn in the background filling the moment of silence. "He's pretty bad off. He was unconscious when we got there. The doctors say they're not really sure when he'll wake up… if he'll wake up."

Murphy frowned, stepping closer and touching her back in a comforting gesture. "I'm real sorry ta hear that, sweetheart."

"Yeah," she sighed softly. Then Murphy saw the muscles in her jaw twitching a little before she added harshly. "It was Valenti and his men that did this, I know. They want the pub and they figure if they scare Mr. H enough, he'll give in. But he won't let them have it… I won't let them have it."

He was about to respond when the microwave timer went off, letting them know the popcorn was done. Fey turned to pull the bag out, giving Murphy a quick smile. "Go sit back on the couch. I'll be in with the popcorn in a minute."

Murphy nodded and did as was suggested, going to sit back down with Connor, who had Laura curled up against him with a familiarity that made him smile. "Oi, Murph! Where's Fey ta start the movie?"

"She's bein' right kind an' makin' us popcorn, ye ungrateful pissant," Murphy chided as he swatted the back of his brother's head.

"So much for brotherly love," Laura chuckled, shaking her head a little at them both.

Connor smirked and leaned his head back over the couch to call out "Fey, ye're makin' us popcorn?"

"Yeah," she replied. "I'm almost done. You can start the movie now if you want."

"Not a chance," Connor retorted, winking at a glowering Murphy. "Ye're a dear, sweet, lovely, goddess o' a girl makin' us popcorn. The least I can do is save the movie 'til ye're cuddled up nice an' close with me brother 'ere."

Both Laura and Murphy's jaws dropped, though Laura's astonishment was quickly replaced by a smirk, which in turn was quickly covered up by her hands as she tried to stifle a laugh. Murphy on the other hand had quickly become red, and would have lunged for his brother except Fey came into the living and shoved a bowl of popcorn between their faces.

"Well, I'm here now," she said lightly after pressing the bowl toward Connor.

Murphy was slightly miffed that his brother had been given the whole bowl until he saw Fey round the arm of the couch and slide in next to him, another bowl of popcorn held tightly in her arms. She settled in close to his side, setting the bowl on both their legs for easy access. He watched Connor suppress a snicker as he turned the movie on to begin the show.

Everyone watched the screen intently, laughing at the appropriate times, though it seemed sometimes the girls got jokes that they brothers didn't and vice versa. At one point, Murphy felt Connor shift beside him. Glancing over, he saw his brother's arm around Laura's shoulders. Smooth move, he thought sarcastically. But Laura pressed in closer to him as if it were the most comfortable thing in the world and Murphy was a little jealous of Connor's idea. Right git.

Suddenly, his fingers brushed Fey's in the popcorn bowl, making him jump just a little in surprise. She giggled softly, and Murphy wasn't sure if it was his reaction or something from the movie. He had a small handful of popcorn, one poised to pop into his mouth, but Fey grabbed it right from between his fingertips and put it in her own mouth.

"Oi," he whispered, trying to hide his laughter but not succeeding very well. "That was mine, ye little thief."

Fey had no answer, but a soft smile that made his heart flutter in a way he couldn't possibly describe to anyone. He went to eat another piece, but Fey stole that one too. Murphy gave her a slightly amused glare, to which Fey blushed and looked away. "Okay, I'll stop."

He ate some more of the popcorn in his hand uninterrupted, though Fey did curl her feet up on the couch. This pressed her slightly closer to him, trapping their arms between their sides. It was even closer when she leaned to grab some more popcorn, her fingers brushing across his thigh delicately. Needless to say, his full attention was not on the movie at the moment.

Reaching into the bowl again, Murphy grabbed the last good handful of popcorn without thinking about it. He had already started munching on some of the pieces when he heard Fey huff just a little, picking through the unpopped kernels. Instantly Murphy felt like the biggest jerk in the world, no matter that it was just over a bit of a snack. He had some uneaten popcorn left in his hand and held it out for her to take some. She glanced up at him questioningly. Murphy raised his eyebrows, trying to tell her it was a legitimate offer. She took a few pieces and chewed them slowly.

"Thanks," she whispered so as not to bother Connor and Laura, who were intently watching the movie. Fey leaned up closer to him then, and Murphy twisted his head to see what she was doing. Apparently she had been going to kiss his cheek, but his lips brushed against hers and the plan changed. He was not going to miss another opportunity and took a moment to suck on her lips gently while wrapping his arm around her back. She took a sharp breath, something like a surprised gasp, before pulling her lips away from his, cheeks blushing a beautiful shade of pink.

Murphy watched her face intently, half-expecting her to slide away from him on the couch or just stand up and leave entirely. He was having trouble reading what her eyes were telling him, no doubt she was thinking something and he just wanted to know what it was. But Fey quietly rested her cheek against his shoulder, snuggling in a bit closer to him to his delight. He pressed the side of his face into her hair, taking in the silky feel and the wonderful scent that just earlier that day had driven him to acts of mindless self-indulgence. The memories of that had him lowering his arm across her back so that he was holding her hips tightly against his own, fingers splayed across her midsection. Then he felt her fingers delicately trace his "Aequitas" tattoo before lacing with his own, sending a jolt of warmth through him.

A comfortable stillness fell between them for the rest of the movie, the rise and fall of their chests the only movement except for a few times when Murphy would brush his cheek over her hair to feel how soft it was.

--

Right after the movie, Laura went to bed, actually kissing Connor on the cheek before walking off into the other bedroom across from Fey's. And though he was out like a light the second his head hit the pillow on the air mattress, nothing could take the grin away from the lighter twin's face. Murphy was still awake in the darkness, listening to his brother snoring gently beside him. He was on his back, the sheet pulled up to his waist, one hand beneath his head and pillow, the other tapping aimlessly on his bare chest. The purposefully muffled sounds of Fey cleaning a few dishes in the kitchen was just barely audible above Connor, and Murphy chewed the inside corner of his lips in thought. After a few moments' contemplation, he pushed back the sheet and climbed off the air mattress to join Fey in the kitchen.

There was a small fluorescent light above the sink, just enough illumination to do dishes and not bother the whole rest of the apartment. Fey was standing there, arms elbow-deep in dishwater, working on the bowls the popcorn had been in.

"D'ye need some help, love," he asked gently, padding up to the counter beside her.

"Oh, Murphy," was her half-startled response. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"Don't ye worry 'bout that. Conn always keeps me awake what with his snorin'," he smiled, leaning against the counter. He was rewarded with her soft giggle, which somehow managed to remind him that he was only in his boxers. "Now, d'ye need me poor excuse fer help?"

"No, I'm almost finished," she shook her head with a grin. And it was true, Murphy could see her rinsing out the last of the dishes and pulling out the plug of the sink. "Unless you want to help dry."

His only response was a smirk as he picked up a dry towel from the counter. As he crossed behind Fey to get to the wet dishes, Murphy absently brushed his hand down her arm. The hiss of pain she let out stopped him dead in his tracks. "Are ye alright?"

"Yeah," she nodded, though her face was still scrunched up in pain. When her eyes blinked open, she seemed to shake everything off. "Just had a little accident at the hospital. I literally ran into a rushing orderly, left a bit of a bruise there."

"Let me see," he asked, reaching for her shirt sleeve, but Fey pulled back quickly.

"No," she shook her head slightly. "It's not pretty. But I guess what I did isn't exactly going to get you on any magazine covers."

She pointed at his chest where a few bruises had formed from when she had pounded her fists against his flesh in her temporary moment of rage earlier that evening. Her eyes turned away from his as she tapped her fingers nervously against the counter. "I'm sorry about that, by the way."

"Nothin' t'be sorry 'bout," he smiled, picking up a dish and drying it quickly. "Was just glad I could be there fer ye."

When Murphy glanced up at her, she was giving him a somewhat tired smile, and he realized that never before had sleepy eyes and wet hands looked so beautiful. Fey shook her head gently and took the dish away from him that he had been drying and sat it back on the dish rack. "It's pretty late. We'll save these for tomorrow."

"Okay," he nodded slightly. Something told him that she wouldn't allow him to stay up and finish them all by himself. Resigned to his fate of going back to bed, Murphy dried his hands and started back for the living room. But he didn't make more than two steps before his mind said "fuck-it" and he turned back around, staring at Fey a moment before asking "Can I kiss ye goodnight, Fey?"

She blinked rapidly a few times before nodding her consent. He moved to her, one hand cupping her cheek, the other resting gently on her hip as her fingers brushed up his chest as if on instinct. Leaning forward a bit, Murphy brushed his lips over her cheek, which he realized made her tremble against him. When she did not shy away or make an attempt to push him back, he licked his dry lips quickly before pressing a more substantial kiss to her jaw line. Her fingers curled against his skin, fingernails tickling him, making him shiver and pull her closer so that their bodies were touching delicately and his hand was sliding up her spine beneath her shirt.

The low moan that trickled out of her lips when his tongue slid down her neck had him closing his eyes to savor the taste of her skin. Oh, the things he wanted to do to her, with her, not the least among which was pressing her back against the counter and wrapping her legs around his waist before burying himself inside her. Murphy was sure his thin boxers were giving away his desires as he pulled her even closer, licking and nibbling along her collarbone.

"Murphy, please," she whimpered against his neck, her warm breath sending goosebumps spreading across his skin.

"Aye, love," he whispered, loosening his grip on her but not letting her go. His lips still hovered above the skin of her throat, flitting soft kisses every few seconds. "What is it?"

"I want…" she managed to reply before he kissed just below her chin and he could see her eyes roll back a little in pleasure.

Murphy felt her hands move up to his neck, holding onto him like she might fall away, though he knew he couldn't let her body get that far away. "What d'ye want, Fey?"

"I want you," was her trembling response. Murphy's heart skipped, beating five times faster as he leaned in to bury his face at the crook of her neck and scoop her fully into his arms. But Fey shook her head suddenly, blinking fast as if coming out of a trance and pushing back a bit on his shoulders. "I mean, I want you to get some sleep."

Murphy froze, and it made his body and heart ache terribly. He pulled back to look at her face, which was pink from blushing. Her chest heaved against his and her dilated pupils told him she had been enjoying it just as much as he had. Why had she made him stop? Had he done something wrong? Had he completely misread her reaction to his advances?

"Fey, I'm sorry," he pleaded gently, pulling his hands away from her.

"No, no Murphy," she smiled slightly as she stroked the hair on the back of his head. "Don't be sorry. It's just there's so much… I want...but... "

Fey shook her head and looked away from him, biting her lower lip as she sighed in frustration. Murphy wanted to ask what she meant, wanted to ask the questions to unwrap all of her little secrets. Maybe then she wouldn't pull away so much, maybe then he would understand. But it wouldn't be fair, because he wasn't sure he could answer the same questions directed at him, no matter how much he wanted to.

He nodded slightly, sadly, kissing her forehead as he brushed his fingertips down her cheek. "It's gettin' late. Ye should get some sleep."

Judging by the look on her face, she had not been expecting the reaction he gave her. "Yeah, I'm pretty tired. I'll see you in the morning, Murphy."

"G'night, darlin'," he replied before she quickly kissed his cheek and ran off to her bedroom.

Murphy was considerate enough to switch off the light in the kitchen before heading back to the living room, laying down and trying to get some sleep.

**A/N: Jeez, someone needs to take those two and sit them down… have them talk it out or something… shit! Haha Hugs again, Sithy**


	19. Returning to the Scene

-1Murphy walked down a long, dark hallway, gun drawn and ready for anything that might come out at him. Well, almost anything. He didn't quite expect the stark white door that opened to his right, or the hands that grabbed him and pulled him inside. But unexpected did not mean unwelcome. He realized quickly that it was Fey who had a hold on the lapels of his pea-coat, just as she had a hold on his heart. She pulled him further into the closet, pressing their lips together quick and full of fire.

There was a shelf at the back of the closet, or maybe a table. Whatever it was, it was the perfect height for Fey to sit on and wrap her legs around Murphy's waist. She took the gun from his hand as he kissed her neck, setting it down beside her. Her hands slid up his chest and started brushing the coat off of him. Murphy let it slide down his arms and fall to the ground before grabbing the hem of Fey's shirt and peeling it off her.

Her silky dark hair fell around both their bare shoulders, making Fey's skin look like fine porcelain in the darkness. But it was warmer, so much warmer as Murphy slid his lips across her collarbone. He found his way back up to her mouth just as his finger found their way to the clasp of her bra. His mind was telling him to savor it, every hitched breath she gave him, every time his lips met her so-soft skin, but his body didn't want to listen as he somewhat frenziedly licked and suckled at each of her breasts.

And Christ, Fey wasn't making it any easier on him. Her fingers combed through his hair as she moaned and whimpered while nibbling his ears whenever she got the chance to. She whispered breathlessly that she wanted him, needed him, loved him. With a sigh, she told him how much she ached to feel him inside her. Murphy groaned, grinding his hips into hers as his tongue explored her mouth.

He was so engrossed with the feel and taste of her, that Murphy didn't recognize the sound of the door opening. A perfect rectangle of light fell around them, until a figure formed a shadow that loomed across Fey and Murphy's tangled-together bodies. He was still completely oblivious of what was going on behind him, even as one of Fey's hands left his body to reach down to the shelf-table thing. She kissed him hard, grabbing the back of his neck to hold him in place for a moment.

Then suddenly Fey pulled away from the kiss, pressing Murphy's cheek to her shoulder. To his surprise, Fey had picked up his gun and was pointing it toward the door. He twisted his head to find Valenti standing there. Fey fired the gun, catching the Italian man right between the eyes, dropping him like a sack of bricks. She set the gun back down and pulled Murphy's face up to kiss him again.

And surprisingly, Murphy fell back into the touches and kisses, moaning just a bit as Fey's fingers slid down his stomach and started to undo his jeans.

--

"Murph! Murph, wake the fuck up!"

Connor's harsh whisper brought Murphy out of sleep sharply, causing him to bolt up into a sitting position in bed. "What? What is it?"

"Ye were havin' a dream," Connor replied, trying to hide his laughter. "An' I think ye messed the sheets."

Confused, Murphy looked down at his lap and realized what his brother was talking about. "Ah, fuck!"

He laid back down with a sigh, pulling the pillow over his face to muffle his brother's laughter.

"Ye ain't had a wet dream like that since we were teenagers," Connor chuckled. "An' ye was moanin' Fey's name, too."

"Shut it, Conn," Murphy grumbled as he took the pillow away from his face. "I don't need yer shite right now."

Like a good brother, Connor tried to settle his laughter as he lay back with his hands behind his head. "Ye know, Murph, Laura's an auto-mechanic."

"What," Murphy asked, confused by the sudden change of subject.

"Yesterday, when we were at the pub," Connor explained. "One a the guys was havin' car trouble an' Laura fixed it up real quick. It was down right impressive, it was. An' she can put away the drink with the best a 'em, an' she's bright an' funny an' beautiful. Such a lovely lass."

"Is there somethin' wrong with ye Conn," Murphy laughed, pressing the back of his hand to his brother's forehead as if checking for a fever. "Are ye sick? Ye've never talked about a girl like that before."

"She's not a girl, Murph," Connor huffed, pushing his brother's hand away.

Murphy could only grin a bit at his twin. It wasn't often that Connor was head over heels, and most assuredly his brother was for Laura, just as badly as he was for Fey. Of course, even falling in love, Connor would be extremely cool about it. "Well, if ye like 'er so much, why don't ye go out with 'er?"

"It's not exactly the most perfect datin' situation 'ere, Murph," Connor rolled his eyes. "We show up outta nowhere, get takin' in by two sweet ladies, sleepin' in their livin' room no less. We've got no connections, no place ta go… We've got ta settle in first, figure out what we're gonna do, then we can worry 'bout datin' anyone."

"Ye're right Conn," Murphy nodded before smiling. "But that's never stopped ye before."

"Oi, ye fucker," Connor laughed, punching his brother in the arm playfully.

"Just do me a favor, will ye," the darker twin asked, sounding very serious suddenly.

They both sat up and Connor looked over at him curiously. "Aye? An' what's tha'?"

"Don't hurt 'er, okay," Murphy asked. "I mean, if ye're goin' ta go after 'er, really mean it. Don't take 'er fer a few tumbles then see 'er off. She's a good woman. They both are."

"Ye really think so ill a me, Murph," the lighter twin asked, sounding slightly hurt. "Well don't ye worry, brother. Laura is… Laura's a keeper, fer sure. 'Sides, who better than the best friend a the girl me brother's lost his whole fuckin' heart ta? Plus a few bodily fluids."

"Ye tosser," Murphy laughed, hitting his brother with his pillow. Connor hit back and it looked like it would escalate into a full blown pillow-fist wrestling match when there was the sound of someone clearing their throat.

"Morning guys," Fey said as she and Laura stood watching from the other side of the couch.

"Fey," Murphy squawked at the same time Connor yelped "Laura!"

Then in a sing-song, unison voice, the grinning twins practically cried out "G'mornin'!"

Both women started laughing, Fey covering her mouth as Laura made a quick hand gesture to her, looking like she was trying to wash her face in a circular motion. Fey nodded vehemently, giving Murphy the brightest, most heart-fluttering smile he'd ever seen, even after the incident the night before.

"Come on, boys," Laura chuckled as she and Fey headed over to the door.. "Get dressed. We're getting Krispy Kreme for breakfast then taking a stroll around the city."

"Sounds great," Connor smirked, pulling his jeans and t-shirt on.

"Oh, Murphy," Fey called as she slipped on a jacket.

He looked up from slipping on his boots to find her bright eyes giggling at him. "Aye, sweetheart?"

"Would you please put your sheet in the clothes bin," she asked.

A deep red blush began to creep up Murphy's neck. Looking down at the bundle of he had made of his sheet, he wondered just how much she had seen and heard.

--

The four of them scarfed down several of the addictive glazed doughnuts before heading out, the twins and Laura with coffee in their hands. Murphy thought it was almost sickeningly cute that Fey had opted for hot chocolate instead. But she also carried two boxes of a dozen more of the doughnuts, and Laura had a carrier of four more coffees. When questioned, the girls said it was for a few friends of theirs they'd be seeing on the walk.

So they started out on their little journey walking westward, deeper into the city itself. They made a few turns and the women pointed out some spots to the boys. It was luckily a slightly warmer day, despite the blindingly white snow. The brothers learned that there could be three feet of the white stuff on the ground in the city but the temperature could hover around mid-60s. Strange place, that St. Louis.

As they continued on, Fey and Laura were promising to take them on a tour of the brewery some other day when the brothers realized they were walking down a street that looked vaguely familiar. They hadn't been around the city too much, but something about that particular street was recognizable. A wave of shock and panic spread through both twins when they saw a group of police cars parked around and entrance to an alley. Oh, they remembered where they were now, and they weren't sure what they should do about it. Glancing quickly at each other, Connor and Murphy both flipped up their jacket collars and continued to follow the women.

"Hey Frankie," Fey shouted suddenly over the din of the crime scene. She had stopped the group right at the edge of the yellow police tape, leaning slightly over it to make her voice better heard.

In a group of cops that stood huddled together, a tall, broad-shouldered black uniformed officer stood up straight and looked around. When his eyes fell on Fey and Laura, a wide grin cracked what looked to be a normally permanent scowl. He ambled over to the four of them, chuckling. "Laura, Fey! What brings you ladies out here?"

"Heard you on the police scanner this morning," Laura answered. "Thought we'd bring you a little something, but you have to be nice and share with all the rest of your little friends."

The cop laughed and took the doughnuts and coffee from them. "You sure know the way to a policeman's heart."

"I think that goes for just about any man," Fey giggled.

"Speaking of men," the officer paused. "Who are these guys with you?"

The brothers smiled jovially at the cop, even though he gave them a suspicious look. The women glanced back at them before Laura answered. "Why Officer Franklin, these are a few friends of ours from out of town. We were just showing them the sights."

"And your first stop was a crime scene," Franklin asked in a chiding voice.

"No," Fey shook her head as if it was a very stupid question. "The first stop was Krispy Kreme, then a crime scene. I mean really, how else did we get those doughnuts for you?"

The policeman glared at them a moment longer before shaking his head with another chuckle. "Boy, you girls are something else. Maybe these friends of yours can knock some sense into you two."

"I highly doubt it," Laura replied confidently, taking a step back to lean her elbow on a smiling Connor's shoulder.

"Listen, Frankie," Fey said, leaning in a bit closer. Her voice had gone serious and almost conspiratorial. "What's going on here? I heard you were the first on the scene. What do you know?"

"Fey," Frankie clucked his tongue. "You know I'm not supposed to give out information pertaining to the crime to unauthorized individuals."

"Come on, Frankie," Laura pressed. "You know we won't tell anyone else. You can trust the two of us and these guys here. Well, as you can see, they're securely wrapped around our little fingers."

Connor threw an arm around Laura's neck for emphasis and Murphy took a step forward to rest his hand on Fey's shoulder. The officer eyes them a bit before shaking his head.

"Alright," he sighed. "I was the first on the scene. Found Valenti's cronie Sal with his brains splattered all over the alley wall and the snow. At first, I thought it was just another gang hit. You know, Sal stepped in the wrong territory, pissed off some fucking little gang-banger who wanted to prove that the mobsters don't scare him."

"Yeah," Fey nodded in understanding.

"But the thing is," Franklin continued. "When I got closer to the body, I realized it wasn't a regular gang shooting."

Murphy peered down to see Fey's eyes furrow in confusion. A step behind him he heard Laura ask "What do you mean?"

The cop looked around to make sure no one could overhear what he was about to say. "What I mean is, this guy was laid out, arms crossed over his chest with pennies over his eyes. No little gangster's gonna do something like that. They hit and run. Sal was done just like that guy the other day who tried to rape that lady. She said two masked men saved her and did up the body before taking off. I think the same guys did this."

"Holy fucking shit," Laura exclaimed in a harsh whisper.

Fey's brows furrowed again and Murphy could tell she was thinking hard. "Pennies over the eyes? That sounds familiar."

"Yeah," the cop agreed, nodding his head. "Now that I think about it, it does sound kinda familiar."

Fey nodded in turn, still looking like she was deep in thought. But she turned a smile to the officer. "Thanks Frankie. We should be getting out of here before you get in trouble."

The policeman smiled. "Let me know if you remember what the deal is with the pennies, alright?"

"Sure thing," Fey waved as the four continued on their way past the cop cars. But Murphy heard her whisper under her breath "Yeah fuckin' right."


	20. Eavesdropping

-1The MacManus twins walked with Fey and Laura past houses and apartment buildings where hip-hop music blared and nearly shook the sidewalk with its heavy bass. Several times, the girls would stop and wave to men who had brought their heads out from underneath the hood of a car just long enough to yell a greeting back. A few kids on old bicycles rode around the four of them in circles, calling out to Fey happily.

At one point, they saw a teenager standing on a corner, pants hanging off his hips with the brim of his hat cocked to one side. An older guy came up to him, and Fey stopped the whole group by stretching her arms out wide. The four watched silently as the teenager handed off a bag to the man in exchange for a wad of money. Murphy was shocked by the growl that came out of Fey's mouth.

"Antoine," she shouted. "What the hell are you doing?"

The teen nearly jumped out of his skin, looking around to see who had called him. When his eyes fell on Fey, he started to fidget nervously as she and the rest of the group came closer.

"Hey, Miss Fitzpatrick," he said in a low voice, not meeting her eyes. "What's goin' on?"

"What did I just see you doing," she asked sternly. Murphy was surprised at the effect she had on the boy. Fey could only have been a few years older than him, and she stood at least a foot shorter. But somehow, she managed to seem imposing as she stood in front of him. "Where you just selling drugs?"

"Naw, naw," he shook his head. "That was just my dawg givin' me some cash he owed me."

"Really? And what was in that plastic bag you handed him," she pressed on.

The boy licked his lips, still unable to look at her face. "C'mon, Miss Fitzpatrick, don't put me on the spot like that."

"Have you been taking drugs, Antoine," she asked. "Didn't you hear about what happened to Cynthia the other night?"

"Yeah, I heard," he nodded. "But I haven't been taking any, honest. I've just been sellin' for this guy so I could get some money. You know my father got laid off this week and my momma doesn't make enough for me and Juicy."

"Who're ye sellin' for," Connor asked from behind Fey.

Antoine looked up, glaring slightly. "Who're these guys?"

"We're just friends a Fey and Laura's," Murphy answered gently.

"Answer the question, Antoine," Fey urged, putting a soothing hand on his shoulder.

The teenager shuffled his feet a little. "Richie, one of Valenti's guys."

Murphy felt Fey cringe more than saw it because he was doing it right along with her. But she patted the boys chest with a sigh. "Selling drugs is never the answer, Antoine. You need money, you come to me and Laura. We'll make sure you get what you need."

"Yes, ma'am," Antoine nodded.

Fey clucked her tongue gently. "You carrying any more of that stuff on you?"

"Naw," he shook his head. "Richie doesn't trust me, thinks I'll get busted by the cops so he only gives me a bag at a time."

"Alright," she nodded. "You put Richie's money in an envelope and slide it under his door. Don't you dare go back in his place."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a few twenty-dollar bills, folding them into Antoine's hand. "Then you take these and go down to the store to get whatever you guys need for the family."

"Yes, ma'am," he nodded before finally looking at her face. His eyes were glistening with unshed tears. "Thanks Miss Fitzpatrick."

"You're a good kid, Antoine," she told him, resting her hand on his shoulder. "Don't fall into this mess around here. And don't let your brother Juicy either."

Antoine nodded again before pulling away from her, heading down the street in the direction of the market. Fey shook her head sadly as she watched him go. Murphy couldn't help himself as he stepped up to her, placing a hand on the back of her neck to hold her still while he gently kissed her temple.

"Ye're amazin', ye know that," he whispered.

Fey looked up into his eyes and gave him a gentle smile, wrapping her fingers around the lapel of his pea-coat as if she might pull him closer to her. Instead, she looked over at Laura, smile replaced by a look of determination. "We need to go see the Dutchman."

--

As the four of them turned down a street with several homes that looked worse for wear, Fey and Laura stopped the brothers at the busiest-looking one. A few older people were outside playing cards and checkers on the front lawn. There was a little girl putting twisting cornrows in a smaller boy's hair on the stoop. Beneath the propped open window were a few folding chairs, one occupied by an extremely dark man with a bright white bandage taped to his neck. The man gave the small approaching group a hard look before standing up and stepping inside.

"Well, doesn't this look like a right welcomin' place," Connor whispered sarcastically under his breath. "What're we doin' 'ere again?"

"We have to see Fey's friend, The Dutchman," Laura answered in a tone that brooked no argument, though she wrapped her arm around his as they followed Fey through the yard's gate.

Fey reached back and took Murphy's hand as they proceeded, confusing him for a second.. Then he realized that as they walked closer to the house, the more on edge the people in the yard seemed. They must have been wary of new people entering their territory, and Murphy could completely understand that. Fey and Laura were trying in an off-handed way to show that the men meant no harm to anyone.

Suddenly, the door to the house opened and out stepped a tall black man with a huge grin.

"Fey, Laura! Mnaendeleaje," he beamed, voice thickly accented in what the brothers barely recognized as Kenyan. Unfortunately they didn't understand a word of Swahili. "I'm so happy to see you again. Come, come! Introduce these gentlemen you have brought with you."

All the while he was coaxing them to come, he was walking closer to them. The met at the bottom of the porch steps, the man's arms out wide to hug Fey and Laura at the same time.

"How are you, Dutchman," Fey laughed.

"Ah, Dutchman, Dutchman," he chuckled. "That is still a good nickname. I wish more people would call me that."

"Michael," Laura emphasized with a smirk. "These are our friends Connor and Murphy MacManus. They're staying with us right now."

"I see," he nodded with his own smirk. "And gentlemen, have these ladies been giving you any trouble?"

"Why does everyone always ask us tha'," Murphy laughed, giving Fey a smile.

She just smirked at him, raising an eyebrow before turning back to the Dutchman. "I swear, we've been on our best behavior. Well, except for that time when Laura had a gun to Connor's face."

"Hey," Laura huffed. "He snuck up on me."

Connor's eyes widened a bit as he faced her. "Snuck up on ye? I was asleep an' I wake up ta find a barrel of a gun pointed at me head."

"I already apologized," Laura crossed her arms in front of her chest, looking slighted.

"Ah, c'mon, love," Connor coaxed with a smile, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "I've already fergiven ye. 'Sides, it's a hell of a way ta meet such a lovely lass."

Everyone had a good laugh, especially when Laura leaned in and kissed Connor's cheek making him blush a bit. Murphy felt Fey squeeze his hand slightly, catching him a little off guard so that his laughter faltered for a second. Then her attention was fully on Michael, touching his arm and leaning in as if to tell a secret. But she was loud enough that Murphy could hear.

"Can I talk to you alone inside," she asked the Dutchman as she touched his shoulder. "It's important."

"Sure, sure," Michael nodded. "Come inside. Your friends can sit outside here and enjoy the unseasonably warm day."

With that, he and Fey went up the steps and into the house, disappearing around a turn. At the same time, the angry-looking bandaged man from before came out to glare at the group.

"Marshall," Laura beamed at him. "What's shakin'?"

"Una bahati siku ku-uwa," the man grumbled fiercely. "Mwatanya nini kwenye bustani langu?"

"Standing," Laura laughed, stepping away from Connor to cross her arms in front of him with a playful glare. "And there's no need to be all huffy about it. I mean, I know you're in love with me and all, but sometimes a girl just has to move on."

Connor and Murphy were both utterly confused by the exchange, and it was only made worse when Marshall's angry face split into a dazzlingly bright grin. He took Laura's face between his hands and kissed her forehead. "You are a very silly girl. If these men think they can handle you and Fey, then I say they are worthy to be here."

"That language; it's Swahili, right," Connor asked, just to be sure.

"Yes," Marshall nodded, still grinning. "Do you know any of it?"

Connor shook his head. "Can't say that I do. But I'd love to learn it."

Murphy had started to wander off after that, not too interested in what his brother had to say to the man. He was more interested in the card game that was going on in the front yard. It seemed like a strange place to have tables set up, especially in the snow, but there were still old men at each table, playing like it was the only thing in the world to do. He passed the girl braiding the cornrows and she gave him a laugh before returning to her work. The little boy glanced up at him and stuck his tongue out. Murphy returned the gesture with a smile and the boy just went back to looking at the ground between his feet.

The folding chairs beneath the window seemed like a good enough place to settle and watch the game. Murphy took a seat and had just recognized that one of the old men had a straight flush when he heard something behind. Glancing back, he saw that the window was propped open and he could see and hear Fey and Michael. Instinctively, he stilled himself to listen.

"Kwa jina la baba la mwana na la rouo tektite," came Michael's deep voice.

Fey sighed in frustration. "I don't need your prayers, Dutchman. I'm not Catholic anyway."

"But you are a servant of God," Michael corrected, raising the sleeve of her shirt and poking tentatively at a bandage she had there. "Does it still hurt?"

"Yeah," she nodded, wincing with every poke. "And sometimes, I don't even know if I believe God exists."

Michael clucked his tongue. "You do His work, thus He exists. Hold still."

He grabbed a corner of the bandage and ripped it off her. Fey clenched her fists hard, and Murphy thought he saw blood on the gauze. Apparently her injury had been more than just a bruise though she was at just the right angle that he could see for sure.

"Richie's been selling to some of my kids, and someone's been killing in our streets," Fey stated flatly as Michael wiped her arm with a wet rag.

"Killing happens all the time," the Dutchman responded, starting to fold a fresh piece of gauze and tape it to her arm.

"Not like this," she shook her head. "Two men, leaving pennies on the eyes of the dead. It sounds so familiar. Do you remember something like that?"

"I remember," he nodded slowly, pulling down her sleeve carefully.

When he didn't continue, Fey shook her head and asked sharply "Well?"

"There are some things which you must remember for yourself," Michael answered, taking a bowl over the another table. "Will you come to the club tonight? You've just turned twenty-one, so you can come and go as you please."

"Sure," Fey nodded, tapping her fingers on the table beside her arm. "But I guess I have to go to the library this afternoon to help me remember."

She said the last words with so much venom, Murphy winced. But Michael laughed heartily. "Yes go there before. But make sure your dress for warmth when you come to the club tonight. The heat has been turned completely up and it only gets hotter the more people that come in."

"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind. Do you care if I bring Laura and the twins along," Fey asked.

"Twins," Michael asked, sounding intrigued. "Yes, they can come too. Oh, and don't forget when you go to the library that many religions put coins over the eyes of their dead."

Fey picked up her jacket and slid it on carefully. "I know, it's just narrowing down which one to look for."

"Oi, Murph," Connor called, pulling Murphy's attention away from the window. "What're ye doin'?"

"I was, uh," he stumbled a bit, walking over to his brother. "I was watchin' these men play a bit o' cards 'ere. I think the one in the hat'll win."

Just then, Fey and Michael came out of the house, laughing together. They came over to join Connor, Murphy, and Laura, all standing near the gate to leave.

"Thanks for the talk, Dutchman," Fey smiled, putting a hand over Murphy's on the gate. "You're a big help."

"My pleasure to help a friend," he beamed as they began to walk back onto the sidewalk. They were just about to turn and leave when he called out "Enendeni wachungali mkawaongoli wanakondo."

Fey and Laura raised their hands in a silent farewell as they started their journey away from the house. Laura was the first to look at Fey and ask "Where to now?"

"We've got to go to the library," she answered. "Then tonight, we go clubbing."

--

_Here are the translations from Swahili._

_Mnaendeleaje? - How's it going?_

_Una bahati siku ku-uwa - You're lucky I let you live_

_Mwatanya nini kwenye bustani langu - What are you doing on my lawn?_

_Kwa jina la baba la mwana na la rouo tektite - In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit_

_Enendeni wachungali mkawaongoli wanakondo - Go Shepherds to tend your Flock_


	21. Like Night and Day

**A/N: And thus I return to The Gateway as everyone has been wanting. Thank you so much for putting up with my challenge one-shots before I got to this.. And again, thanks to Bel for being my Gateway Beta, she rocks so hardcore! And I hope she and her Murph and Conn Conn are enjoying the SPF CD I made for her ;) **

**Hugs, The McSithster**

"An' ye overheard 'em talkin' 'bout the pennies over the eyes," Connor asked his brother as they stood outside the library, smoking their cigarettes and conversing away from the girls.

"Aye," Murphy nodded, glancing around quickly. "An' the Dutchman seemed ta know more than he was lettin' on. Told Fey he remembered somethin' about it, but when she asked, he told 'er she'd 'ave ta find out 'erself. An' believe me, she seems hellbent on findin' us out."

"I dunno, Murph," Connor shook his head slowly, taking another drag from his cigarette. "Maybe we should be gettin' ourselves out then. It wouldn't do ta be found out as soon as we roll inta town."

Murphy stared at him a moment in thought, not liking the idea of just disappearing so soon after making a few connections. "Maybe she won't find anythin'. I'm pretty sure Smecker kept most a the details about The Saints bagged up someplace where regular people can't just get at 'em."

"The media, Murph," Connor replied, tapping his head as if his brother wasn't thinking as clearly as he should. "Ye remember all the stories on the news an' in the papers? There's bound ta be a record a that kept somewhere. It was all over tha' we were Irish an' we put the pennies over the eyes. She's not stupid Murph. She's bound ta put it together."

"All I'm sayin' is if we just take off, then we're sure ta draw attention ta ourselves," Murphy tried to make his brother understand. "D'ye have any idea how many Irish people who've been ta Boston travel through this city? What's ta say she'll even trace it back ta us? I mean, there's two other masked men runnin' 'round killin' people. Maybe she'll peg them an' not us."

Connor nodded a bit, bowing his head as Murphy finished his cigarette and both brothers tossed the butts in the ashcan outside the door. They went to walk back inside but were cut off by a small group of young teens clambering in the door. Glancing at each other, they both shared a look that questioned the presence of young people seeming so excited about entering a library. Inside, they found Laura flipping through a book at one of the study desks. Connor slid into the seat beside her, looking over her shoulder at the book.

"What're ye readin'," he asked. She barely looked up at him, smirking as she flipped the book over to show the cover. Twisting his head, Connor began to read as his eyebrows raised. "Stephen Hawking? Ye read physics books, Laura?"

"Yep," she nodded. "Fey recommended him and I haven't been able to stop myself since."

"Speakin' a Fey," Murphy interjected. "Where'd she run off ta?"

"She went into the stacks," Laura tilted her head toward a long row of bookcases. "Over by the periodicals, I think."

Murphy nodded his thanks, leaving Connor to happily discuss the ideas of Hawking with Laura. The periodicals were in the back corner of the library, hidden away it seemed from the rows and rows of fiction and more colorfully printed books that tended to catch the eye of more readers. Of course, Murphy didn't have to go all the way back there before he found Fey. All he had to do was follow a few of the teens who had entered the library only moments before. They joined a small group of people crowded around Fey near the end of one of the stacks as she hurriedly scanned some book spines on the shelf.

"Ah, here we are," Murphy heard her announce laughingly as he drew closer to the group. "Okay guys, this book would be perfect for your science fair project. It's about the water cycle and how ground water pollution affects most ecosystems."

"Thanks, Miss Fitzpatrick," one of the boys smiled, taking the book from her hand.

"And don't forget to cite your sources properly," she called after him as he and another boy and a girl ran off toward the study tables. Then Fey turned to a woman who looked more her age, maybe even a few years older, a finger tapping her chin in thought. "Gabby, I think a good place to start for your sociology paper would be with the difference between chimps and bonobos. See, they're cousins, but chimps are male-dominated and end most of their disputes with violence, whereas bonobos are matriarchal and solve problems by having lots of recreational sex. You might try to tie that in with your other research about the difference between male and female behaviors."

The woman nodded and went off further into the stacks. There was just one girl left standing there with a messenger bag and her hair up in a simple ponytail. She had a look about her that was at once pained and angry. Fey looked her over for a second, then smiled, reaching out to grab her chin lovingly. "You, my dear, need some Plath. Go over to the poetry section and grab _Ariels_. Then, swing back around to the Ps and pick up _The Bell Jar_."

A quick nod was the only response before the girl disappeared as well. Fey turned back to the books, rolling a small ladder over and stepping up a few rungs to look at books on a shelf a few feet above her head. Apparently, she stilled hadn't noticed Murphy, and he was content to watch her as her eyes scanned the spines with sheer determination. It also didn't hurt that the day had been surprisingly warm enough for her to wear a skirt, albeit with pantyhose. Murphy found himself asking God to bless the strange weather St. Louis had when he caught a sight of her inner thighs.

"Murphy," she called down to him with a mischievous smirk. "You wouldn't be trying to look up my skirt, would you?"

"No, no," he shook his head, feeling his cheeks heat up a bit as she gave him a disbelieving look. Then the corners of his lips tilted up a bit. "Well, maybe just a little. O omniscient one."

Fey giggled and it made his smile broaden. She switched two books on the shelves to their proper places and started to step down from the ladder. Murphy's hand came out instinctively to help guide her down, brushing over her back and shoulder. But it didn't seem to bother her much as she gave him a smile.

"Did ye find what ye were lookin' fer back there," he asked casually, hoping maybe she hadn't and that she would give up.

"No," she shook her head. "But I called up Washington University and S.L.U. to have my librarian friends there check their periodicals for what I was looking for. Sometimes the universities have better records than the public libraries. I should hear back from them in a few days or so."

"Wow, must be somethin' real important if ye're goin' ta all that trouble," Murphy shook his head, hoping he looked innocent enough with the statement.

"Let's just say, there are questions I honestly hate to leave unanswered," she replied, rearranging a few more books on their shelves with a cluck of her tongue. Then she turned an excited smile on him and Murphy found it to be very infectious. "I didn't learn something interesting though. Before today, I had no idea that the early Celtic Christians had put coins over the eyes of their dead. I knew the Catholics had assimilated it from the Romans who took it from the Greeks, but I didn't know that the Celts had taken so readily to it when Catholicism was introduced to Gael."

The excited way she spoke and the image of her moving back and forth between bookshelves at such a fast pace reminded Murphy of a hummingbird flitting from flower to flower. Though he knew the information she had found was somewhat dangerous to him and his brother, there was no denying that the sparkle in her eyes and flush in her cheeks over a new bit of knowledge was more than Murphy could withstand. Before he knew what he was doing, he had grabbed the side of her neck and pulled her face toward his. He covered her lips with his own, stealing a quick, soft kiss.

"Smart _and_ beautiful," he mused, leaning back to look at her face. Fey blushed a bit and he could feel the red creeping up his neck and cheeks as well as he let his hand drop to his side. "Sorry, couldn't help meself."

"Well, at least you led with smart. It's nice when a girl knows she's appreciated for her mind," Fey giggled a bit, giving him a smirk. "But like I've said before, you're a good kisser Murphy MacManus. Makes me think you've kissed quite a lot of girls."

Murphy felt himself pale a little, slightly uncomfortable with the situation. Honestly, he hadn't thought about another girl since he'd met Fey, and certainly none of the other girls he'd had could touch the loveliness of sweet fairy Fey. And it didn't bother him a bit that he was stone sober and still thinking ridiculously childish thoughts. Licking his lips quickly, he replied "I'll admit, I've kissed a few, but…"

"But what," she chuckled lightly, face and eyes bright with amusement

"But," he repeated, stuffing one hand in his pocket and nibbling on the thumb and finger of the other one as he bowed his head. If he had known the shyness he exuded at that moment, he might have tried to change it, tried to act confident and charming. But as it was, he just stared at his feet and mumbled a bit. "I think I like kissin' ye the best, more than all the other lasses combined."

"You're a true Irish gentleman, Murphy," Fey smiled, taking his hand away from his mouth and twining her fingers with his before kissing his cheek. "I think you may be full of shit, but a gentleman nonetheless."

Murphy was about to protest her comment about being "full of shit" as she so eloquently put it, but she cut him off by looking back and forth down the aisle before leaning in a bit closer to whisper "Speaking of Irish gentleman, Murphy, can I ask you a serious question?"

"Aye," he nodded, squeezing her hand a bit as he looked at her curiously. Her head twisted to either end of the bookcases before pulling his down one side, farthest away from the doors. She tugged him close at the end of the case so that no one could see them from either aisle. Murphy couldn't help but smile when she checked the rows one last time. "What's so serious an' secret that ye're actin' like a scared rabbit?"

"I heard some of the conversation you and Connor were having this morning," she responded, which made Murphy's face burn red hot. He started to stammer a reply, but Fey shook her head. "I don't want any of these gossipy, book-stack jockeys to hear this, but does Connor really like Laura?"

The question caught him off guard completely, making him furrow his brow before a grin spread his face. It was such a sweet and innocent question, as though they were a couple school children making conversation. "Aye, I really think 'e does. D'ye think she likes him?"

"Yeah," she nodded, grinning as well. "On the ride to see Mr. Haloran, all she could talk about was Connor-this and Connor-that. If I didn't know her any better, I'd say she had a bit of a crush on him."

Murphy chuckled quietly, being respectful of the sanctity of a library. "Aye, a crush. I believe that's what me brother has too."

"But Laura's my best friend, Murphy, so I have to ask," she continued, looking timid as though she was afraid of the answer. "Is Connor just looking for a winter fling? Just a girl to keep around until he warms up to the place, then moves on? Don't get me wrong, I think you and your brother are both real nice guys, and I don't really care if Laura agrees to it, she's a big girl and can make her own decisions. I just… I'd just like to know so I can be well prepared. I'm very protective of my friends is all."

Murphy felt his heart beating a little faster. Something was telling him that she wasn't just talking about his brother and her friend anymore. It felt as though there were a second conversation going on underneath the surface and he was damned proud of himself for picking it out, even though he wouldn't let on. "Me brother's had a few lasses in his day, but I know him well enough ta see that he really does like Laura. He might be a right charming bastard an' it does tend ta piss me off sometimes, but he can't hide what he really feels from me. He likes her, more than he wants ta admit, and he won't do anythin' hurt 'er."

Fey seemed satisfied by the answer, nodding her head a little. But Murphy couldn't keep from adding in one last dig on his brother with a wide smile. "'Sides, I already told 'im I'd beat his arse if he does."

"Alright," she giggled again, making him shiver with how close they were. "Just make sure that he dances with her tonight at the club. Think you can do that?"

"Course I can," he nodded quickly, giving her a smirk. "Though I don't know if he's quite foolish enough to say no ta an offer ta dance with a lady."

"You did," she smirked back, raising an eyebrow.

"Aye, I did once," he nodded, pulling the back of her hand up to his lips. "But don't worry, Connor told me how much o' a fool I was fer it, an' I felt like an idiot too."

Fey's smile warmed him, even as she chuckled gently. "Does that mean you'll dance with me tonight if I ask?"

"I'd do anythin' ye ask a me, Fey," he replied before he had a chance to think about it.

"Then maybe I'll try not to drink too much tonight. I might start asking for things I shouldn't," she winked before pulling away from him and heading back down the aisle toward the study desks. Murphy watched after her a bit stunned for a moment, but soon moved his feet to follow.

--

The club was pretty packed and very hot, just like The Dutchman had told them. It seemed the bouncers knew Fey and Laura already, letting the group of four in ahead of a long line of rather upset people outside. Everyone checked their coats at a window near the entrance, Murphy unable to take his eyes away from Fey as she peeled off her long leather jacket. Earlier that day, she had looked clean cut and lovely, but once the sun went down and they headed for the club, Murphy could only call her look drop dead sexy.

While he and his brother still sported the same jeans and t-shirts from their afternoon outing, Laura had switched over to a skirt like Fey had on, both black and loose and barely touching their knees. The red-head put on a green top that made her hair and eyes stand out, but Fey went straight for crimson, low-cut too which made Murphy have to force himself not to stare. And bare legs leading down to strappy sandals were not helping. She had even gone so far as to paint her finger and toenails a strange black color with red flecks in it. Both had let their hair down and the humidity in the club was already causing them all to sweat a bit.

Murphy could tell his brother was just as taken with Laura from the slightly dumb look on his face. But the darker twin just smiled and offered his arm to Fey. She took it gladly, giving him a smirk as they walked out into the music, followed close behind by Laura and Connor. It was extremely loud, bass thumping the walls a bit on some songs. And the way sweaty bodies pressed and grinded against one another added to the stifling heat of the place. Fey led the group around some dancers to the bar where there was just enough room for them all to squeeze in amidst the bustling patrons.

"Hey Jonesy," Fey laughingly called over the counter and the din, tapping her hand a few times on the bar. "Get your ass over here and get me and my friends a drink."

One of the bartenders came walking over with a huge smile. "Fey! Heard you had your 21st birthday this week."

"Sure did," Fey nodded. "Picked these guys up from the Flogging Molly concert and decided to keep them around. I mean, I can't be at McGurk's all the time, so why not take a few Irishmen with me wherever I go."

Jonesy laughed as he looked the two men over. "Alright, Fey. Since I missed your birthday, your first drink is on me. What'll you have?"

Fey tapped her chin thoughtfully which made Murphy smile. "I think I'll start the night with a Stoli and Sprite."

"Oh, pretty stiff drink for a newbie," Jonesy chuckled as he poured.

"Well, I'm not driving home, so why not let loose a bit, huh," Fey smiled as she took the glass.

Each of the brothers got a Guinness and two shots of Jameson, telling the girls it was a tradition of theirs to start a night out. They took their shots of whiskey quickly, even as Laura's Jack and Coke was being made. Once it was in her hand though, she pulled Connor out on the dance floor, barely giving him enough time to grab his Guinness as he smiled. Fey took Murphy by the hand as they grabbed their drinks. She led him down a small ramp toward the back of the club, close to the office doors where there were a few tables set up. It was a little quieter there since it was right behind the stage and almost all the speakers faced the opposite direction.

"What're we doin' all the way back 'ere," Murphy asked, taking a sip from his beer.

"It's not so loud," Fey replied. "Plus, I like being able to see everything. Keeping my back to a wall let's me know no one is gonna sneak up on me."

"A bit paranoid there, are ye love?" Murphy snickered. "Well, don't ye worry. No one'll hurt ye while I'm around."

Fey took a drink from her glass. "Oh, so you're planning on being my hero, huh? Well, stick around. You might get your chance."

"What's that supposed to mean," Murphy questioned, head tilting a bit in confusion.

"Nothing," she shook her head. "Do you plan on getting drunk tonight?"

"Irishmen don't get drunk," he corrected with a wink and a grin. "We only get more charming."

"I guess it doesn't really matter," she smiled, shaking her head a little in amusement. "We walked here anyway."

"Which I commend ye for," Murphy's smile broadened as he pointed at her shoes. "Ye're a real trooper walkin' 'round in those things."

"Whoa, another compliment from Murphy MacManus," she giggled sweetly. "That's two in one day. Careful, I may think you're starting to like me."

Murphy looked at her a second, hands reaching into his pockets to pull out a cigarette and his Zippo. Putting the filter between his lips, he leaned his elbows on the table and fiddled with his lighter, something to keep his hands busy as he responded. "What if I do like ye, Fey?"

It was her turn to stare at him a moment as he lit his cigarette. She gave a soft smile and fiddled with the straw in her drink. "I'd probably ask you why."

"What's not ta like about ye, Fey? Ye're," he paused, blowing smoke from his mouth as his thumbnail worried his lower lip. "Ye're perfect."

"I'm far from perfect," she chuckled, sipping her vodka mix. "You just don't know me well enough."

"I'd like ta," he admitted taking another drag.

Fey shook her head slightly. "If I told you my secrets, you wouldn't like me very much, Murphy."

"Shouldn't I be the judge a that," he asked.

"Tell me your secrets," she replied stoically. "And I'll tell you mine."

Murphy nibbled his lip slightly. "They're not just my secrets ta tell."

"Precisely," she nodded. "How long do you think you could like a girl that keeps secrets from you?"

"Fer about as long as she could like me while I keep secrets from 'er," he answered, smoke curling from his lips as he leaned forward over the table. "D'ye like me, Fey?"

"Very much," she smiled softly, giving a little nod.

Murphy's heart beat faster as a somewhat silly grin crossed his face. "Then that's all that really matters right now, isn't it?"

She chuckled a little, shaking her head as if he was missing her point. He was about to ask what she meant by that action, but a song started and Fey picked her head up as if enthralled by the music.

"I love this song," she mused, sliding off her stool. "I'm gonna go dance."

Murphy watched as she walked a few feet closer to the group of dancers, unsure if he should follow her. He listened to the lyrics of the song for a moment. It was a Jamaican man talking about taking his girl to the West Indies. Murphy was actually starting to enjoy the music, finding the lyrics to be strangely familiar, but then he caught sight of Fey beginning to dance and he forgot all about the music.

Her body swayed back and forth to the beat as if in a trance. She spun and glided amongst the other dancers and Murphy was mesmerized by it. He watched, unable to look away as her hips moved and her skin began to glisten with sweat. It wasn't too graphic or obscene, but easily one of the most sensual things he had ever seen. And after another quick turn, their eyes met and she motioned him over to her with a crook of her finger.

He put his cigarette out in the ashtray, walking over to her as she continued to dance. Fey smiled at him as she wrapped her arms around his neck and Murphy could only describe it as seductive. His hands fell to her waist as she pressed against him, their breath mingling with their lips so close together. The tempo in the music slowed suddenly, and she twisted in his grasp so that her back eased into his chest. Her hips still continued their circular swaying motion, forcing him to either move with her or pull away, and he'd be damned if he lost one inch of physical contact with her. She slid down his body a few inches, then back up again, the friction it caused leaving him slightly uncomfortable in his jeans as he stifled a small moan in her hair.

The music stopped abruptly, but not before Fey had spun back around and wrapped her arms around Murphy's neck once more. They both panted a little for air, warm breath skimming over each other's slick skin.

"You're a good dancer, Murphy," Fey finally whispered after a few thick moments.

"Aye, well," Murphy replied with a smirk. "Ye've certainly got a few moves yerself. Don't think I've ever been tha' worked up over a song before."

"I'm sorry," she replied, tensing suddenly and looking embarrassed as a blush started creeping up her cheeks. "I guess that vodka was too much for me. I got carried away."

She started to pull away from him, but he held onto her tightly, forcing her back against his chest.

"Not this again," he shook his head slightly, voice thick with sheer desire. "I'll not let ye pull away this time."

Their eyes locked, something akin to fear flashing through her eyes and making Murphy's heart wrench, feeling that he'd done or said something wrong. But the fear was gone quickly without leaving a trace as her eyes softened and she covered his mouth with hers, sucking his lips gently.

Fey pulled back for a breath, quirking her eyebrows at him a bit. "Do you really want me, Murphy?"

"Oh, fuck yes," he breathed, pressing his forehead to hers as his hands slid down to her hips and pulled her closer. "I've wanted ye since I first laid eyes on ye."

He could feel her body tremble against him, even as she replied "Then that's all that really matters right now, isn't it?"

And with that, she clasped his hand in hers and led him toward the club offices.

**A/N: Boy, that was a long chapter. Hope you enjoyed! I wonder what those two crazy cats will be up to back in the offices (rubs her chin thoughtfully) haha Oh, by the way, the song Fey was dancing to was "Shorty, I Could Take You There" by Sean Kingston.**


	22. Out the Window

-1**A/N: Thank you readers for staying with me through 22 chapters and almost no porn at all… well, except that one chapter with the dream. Anyway, hope you enjoy this one and will find it in your heart to continue to stick with me.**

**Hugs from the Uncanny Sithy**

"Kiss me, Murphy," Fey whispered softly, her face barely visible in the soft moonlight filtering in through the office's window.

Murphy was more than happy to oblige, fingers of his right hand buried in her silky dark hair while the fingers of his left smoothed up her spine beneath her blouse. He sat below her on the office's couch as she straddled his lap. The air in the darkness was cool, but he knew it wasn't the slight chill that caused the goosebumps across his skin. Fey's lips parted beneath his and he took it as an invitation to gently snake his tongue between them. She seemed just as eager to touch and taste him, tilting her head to deepen their kiss as she tugged at his shirt.

Breaking the kiss, Murphy pulled back and allowed Fey to peel the article of clothing off his chest. Before he could kiss her again, her lips latched onto his collarbone, sucking kisses and licks moving across his skin. He groaned gently as her soft tongue traced up the side of his neck. Her hips bucked against him a bit and he grabbed them to hold them close to his. The way she wiggled and squirmed in his lap made his eyes roll back as he hissed in pleasure, the friction causing an unbelievable amount of constriction in his jeans. When her teeth took to gently nibbling the soft skin of his ear, Murphy was sure he was losing his mind.

Fey's hands slid down his chest before she leaned away from him. A moment of confusion crossed Murphy's mind before he realized she was starting to unbutton her shirt. His hands slid up her stomach and over her breasts before replacing hers in their mission. His lips found her neck and she pressed sweet, soft kisses to his cheek even as he tried to de-clothe her.

"Careful, Murphy," she giggled huskily against his ear, making him sigh against her skin. "This is my favorite blouse. Try not to tear it."

"It'll be hard not ta," was his throaty response, his tongue tracing her collarbone as his fingers continued unbuttoning.

She pressed her hips harder against him, making him gasp and moan against her skin. "Not the only thing that's hard, Murphy."

"Why ye cheeky…" he began to snicker, but she pressed her lips hard against his, a moan slipping from her throat when he finally finished and brushed the blouse from her shoulders. His hands found their way to kneading her breasts even as he pulled away from the kiss to look at her. The sight of her skin glowing in the pale light, her partially lidded eyes that stared at him, the soft smile on her full lips; it all took Murphy's breath away, made his chest ache.

"Ye're so beautiful, Fey," he muttered, cupping her face in his hands almost reverently and pulling her down to kiss her lips gently. "Christ, ye're so fuckin' beautiful."

A soft moan tumbled from her lips as Murphy slid his tongue down her neck, adding sloppy kisses along the way, his hand inching up her thigh and pulling the skirt up along with it. Fey arched her back causing more friction where their hips met and her fingers gripped Murphy's shoulders as he nibbled just above her bra.

"Can I touch ye, Fey," he practically pleaded against her skin, his thumb brushing circles across her inner thigh. "Please, let me touch ye."

Though his hands had been almost everywhere else on her body, his fingers - and obvious other parts of him- ached for more. He wanted to touch her in just the right spot to make her go wild with desire, to make her want him as much as he wanted her. Glancing up at her, Murphy saw her biting her lower lip nervously as she looked into his eyes. Fey began to tremble against him, looking almost frightened. He was about to pull his hand away from her when he saw her nod slowly, leaning down to brush her lips over his softly.

"Yes, Murphy," she replied in a quivering whisper. "Please, please."

The way she kissed him them was almost maddening, tender and urgent at once. Fey's sweet taste filling his mouth left him light-headed as he held the back of her neck and slowly began to raise his hand up her thigh.

His fingers had just grazed over the delicate fabric of her undergarments when there was a sudden bang at the window beside them. Both jumped, startled by the loud noise, freezing their motions. They glanced at each other, gazes questioning and determined, before Fey slid off Murphy's lap to stand. Murphy was on his feet a second later when another bang rattled the window. There was no change in the thumping of bass out in the club, so apparently the noise hadn't been heard by anyone else. Fey was over at the window before Murphy had a chance to tell her to let him check it out. Murphy watched, wholly impressed, as she flattened her back against the wall beside the window and slowly pulled the curtain away, just enough to let her see outside into the back alley.

A second later, she let the curtain fall back, her face twisted in anger as her eyes met Murphy's. Then she whispered harshly "That mother fucker!"

"What is it," Murphy asked, walking over to peak out the window. He saw a man and a teenager standing outside, leaning against an old beat-up Pontiac. There was another car in that back alley, a black sedan that looked too ritzy for the neighborhood. Murphy squinted his eyes to try to see better and realized the man looked awful familiar. It took him a second to remember him as one of the men he'd seen at McGurk's the night he met Fey, one of the goons that had been following that creep Valenti around. He watched as the guy passed something off to the teenager before the teen got into the Pontiac and started to pull away.

"That was Richie Mineo," Fey informed hotly from behind him. Murphy turned to find her buttoning her blouse back up. "That's the bastard that had Antoine selling crack on the street corner. And that kid, that was Jamal who lives not three blocks from here and comes into my library with his little sister every other week."

Murphy could hear the agitation dripping from her voice as she wrapped her hair in a ponytail. He walked over to her, putting his hands on her shoulders and forcing her to look at his face. "Fey, love, calm down. Unless ye plan on goin' ta the cops right now, there's nothin' ye can do."

It seemed anger flared in Fey's eyes for a split second before she nodded in defeat. "I guess you're right. But fuck, Murphy. I'm so sick and tired of seeing my-- the kids from the neighborhoods being sucked into this. Fucking Valenti keeps getting his claws into everything and everyone. Ties to the mob, fueling gang violence, kids OD'ing in the streets. It's just… just…"

By this time, frustrated, sobless tears began to trickle down her cheeks. They glistened in the moonlight from the window and Murphy felt compelled to hold her cheeks in his hands and wipe her sweet face dry. He kissed her lips softly, then her forehead before pulling her into a tight embrace, the top of her head tucked beneath his chin.

"I know it's terrible, sweetheart," he soothed gently. "But I promise ye, it'll get better. Ye have me word."

She pulled away from him, her eyes darting over his face quickly before giving him a forlorn look. "It's sweet of you, but you can't promise me something like that, Murphy. It takes a lot more than wishful thinking to change things."

Right then, he wanted to tell her more than ever that he and his brother were the Saints. He wanted her to know that it was their mission, their divine Calling, to take care of the evil in the world. Something about the way she spoke screamed out at him that she would understand, maybe even welcome it. Something said she needed to know there was still hope in the world.

"Connor and Laura are probably worried about us," she said quietly, bending to pick his shirt up from the floor. "We should get back to them."

Murphy took the shirt and slipped it on over his head. Fey smirked at him when he shook his hair out. She started turning away, but before she got too far, Murphy gently grabbed her chin with his thumb and forefinger, tilting her face up to him. His eyes scanned her face quickly before he pressed his lips to hers in a chaste kiss.

"It's a good thing somethin' keeps stoppin' us, Fey," he chuckled a little. "'Cause one time, I may start kissin' ye an' never be able ta pull me lips from ye."

Fey giggled sweetly, making his heart flutter. "Well, I guess that wouldn't be half bad. Like I've told you before, you're a pretty good kisser, Irishman. And I'll probably have the hickies to prove it tomorrow."

A grin spread across Murphy's face as she took his hand once more, only this time she led him back to the rest of the club. They found Connor and Laura rather quickly, the two of them having made their way over to The Dutchman. Fey said he was earlier than usual, and Murphy figured it was because he knew the four of them would be there. They converged at the bar, Connor and Laura greeting them with raised drinks.

"Fey, Murphy," The Dutchman chuckled. "What were you two doing back there?"

"I was giving Murphy a tour," Fey smirked before Murphy had a chance to stutter a response.

The Dutchman's knowing look was not reassuring to their little cover up. "Ah, I see. And did you like what you found?"

It was just a cheeky enough situation, plus Connor was grinning like a fool because brothers always know, that Murphy couldn't help but chuckle. "Aye, ye could say that."

Fey raised an eyebrow, tilting her head as she gave him a gentle smile, sending a shiver up his spine again. Then, her face lost its amusement as she turned to the Dutchman and Laura. "Can I talk to you guys alone for a minute?"

"Excuse us, gentlemen," Michael nodded with a smile. "Please, enjoy drinks on the house."

"Ye should never say tha' ta an Irishman," Connor chuckled, Murphy joining in.

"Friends of Fey and Laura are friends of mine, and my friends drink free," the Dutchman patted his shoulder before walking off a ways with the girls.

The brothers both ordered another Guinness each, Murphy spinning in his stool to look over where the other three were. They were standing in a sort of triangle, all facing each other as Fey's hands and fingers motioned furiously, her brows furrowed in anger. Tapping Connor's shoulder, Murphy motioned for him to turn around to see what was going on.

"Ye see tha', Conn," he asked. 'They're movin' their hands 'round like they're crazy."

"So they talk with their hands," Connor shrugged, sipping his pint. "It's nothin' all that fascinatin', Murph."

The darker twin nodded, but something still didn't set right with him. He was even more unsettled when Michael gave both girls a nod and started walking back toward the bar. But the girls weren't following. They started walking through the crowd toward the back, shoulder to shoulder with a fierce determination. Murphy stood as if to follow, his curiosity wanting to take hold of him. Yet, Fey turned her head in his direction, their eyes locking for a moment. Her expression was uncommonly cold, making him stop dead in his tracks. Then they had both disappeared.

"Where're the girls goin'," the lighter twin asked when The Dutchman had joined them at the bar.

"I do apologize, gentlemen," Michael replied. "The ladies were called away to check in on Mr. Haloran at the hospital. They said you should continue to enjoy yourselves while they're away and that they will meet you back at the apartment later this evening."

"Was it an emergency," Murphy sounded somewhat worried.

Michael gave a reassuring smile. "Everything seems to be alright. Mrs. Haloran just needed someone to sit with her."

"Right kind a them ta keep 'er company," Connor mused with a grin, raising his glass in a toast. "Ta Fey an' Laura."

"Ta Fey an' Laura," Murphy repeated, lifting his pint as well before both took deep drinks of the dark beer.

Michael patted them each fondly on the shoulder. "I must be going now, friends. There is some club business to take care of. Please, enjoy yourselves."

"Thank ye," both twins replied simultaneously as they nodded their appreciation..

The Dutchman went off to the offices, leaving Murphy and Connor to themselves despite all the people surrounding them at the bar. The darker twin's eyes scanned the crowd as Michael left. His jaw set harshly when he caught sight of the man he had seen through the back window, handing drugs to a young man in the alley behind the club.

"Conn," he hissed in a low tone. "We've got somethin' we need ta take care a."

**A/N: Okay, hope you enjoyed this chappy. I'm on to a few more one-shots that have been piling up. Hugs -Sithy**


End file.
